The New God of War
by War Journalist
Summary: After attempting suicide, Kratos becomes the new God of War. Now he must accept his new life as a god, & interact with those he has served these last 10 years. What trials beget Kratos between his rise to godhood, & his attack on Rhodes years later?
1. Chapter I

The New  
God of War

A fan-fiction by War Journalist

_I do not assume ownership over any characters mentioned in this fan-fiction. The characters themselves are figures of Greek mythology. The character of Kratos and the likenesses given for all characters are copyright Sony Computer Entertainment._

Chapter I

"You will not die this day, Kratos. The Gods cannot allow one who has done such service to die by his own hand. Ares' tactics were brutal. His path of destruction had to be stopped. But now there is an empty throne on Olympus, and a new God of War is needed. Take these stairs, Kratos. They lead to your ultimate reward."

Kratos, the warrior who had murdered the God of War, watched in awe as the golden shield on the monument before him split apart. A bright light washed over him as the shield opened the doorway to Mount Olympus. And as if the sight were not enough, a strange golden aura issued from his arms. Where he had once felt searing pain now came a strange, soothing sensation, as if an intense fire from ages ago were finally being put out. As the glowing ceased, Kratos looked down at his arms to see golden replicas of his former weapons, the Blades of Chaos. In place of the horrid red glow there was a calming blue. The statue of Athena spoke once more.

"And what is a God of War without his weapons? I offer you blades I myself have crafted as further payment for your services. Now come, and take your place beside us. Olympus awaits."

The stone statue of Athena once again fell quiet, and the godly aura surrounding it dissipated. Still in awe of the rewards he had been offered, Kratos stepped forward through the portal. The mountain that moments ago was to be his final resting place was left behind. And before him stood the massive temple of the Olympian Gods.

He had seen many things in his life, most notably in his ten years as a servant to the Gods. But nothing he had seen before could match the majesty of this palace. He stepped forward, up the gilded stairway and past the torch-bearing statue. Clouds surrounded the massive structure, as well as the stairway. 'By the Gods...' he thought. 'Can this be real?' A mortal becoming a God was almost unfathomable. For a simple man to be able to ascend to the temple of the Gods and call it his home was an astounding experience to say the least. As he approached, the massive bronze doors before him slid open, revealing the interior of the palace. Golden torches lined the walls of the hallway, in the shape of the finest Spartan war horses. It felt as if the entire palace were somehow lit by the light of the sun; no doubt the work of Helios. And at the end of the hall sat a massive throne room.

As he approached, he realized that at the back of his throne stood a severed head of the Hydra he had slain only days before in the Aegean Sea, looking as fierce now as it had then. He also noticed the presence of two large statues at either side of the throne. As he approached, he realized that the one on the left was the skeleton of the Minotaur, the armored monster he had fought and killed within Pandora's temple. Along with the head of the Hydra, it stood as a true monument of his achievements as a warrior. But as he approached the statue to the right of the throne, a wave of dread washed over him. It was a statue of Ares, the former God of War, in the monstrous form he had taken for their final battle mere hours ago. Staring into the eyes of his former master brought back memories. Memories of the terrible deeds he had done in service to this maniac, culminating in the death of his wife and child.

The pain of the memories forced Kratos, the mortal who had slain a god, to wince in pain. The pain that only moments ago had driven him to seek solace in his own demise. Grand thoughts of his rewards turned bitter and cold. Had he remained mortal, his nightmares would have troubled him for a few more decades. And perhaps he could have managed to make those years peaceful. If only to ease the pain within by some, he would have done anything. But now that he was an Olympian, death was an escape made nearly impossible. And being proclaimed the God of War ensured that violence and death, concepts he had once reveled in for the glory of his country, would now haunt him for all time. The mortal breathed a weary sign as he realized that the torment of his guilt would follow him forever. And with a heart and footsteps as heavy as any measure, he took his place on the great throne, brooding under his title as the new God of War.

As he sat there, finally still after what had seemed like ages, Kratos could only think. About the things he had left behind: his ship, the spray of the sea, the glorious fields of Sparta, and the thrill of battling for her glory. It was all behind him now; all things of no consequence to a god. What would he do with himself now? An eternal life to live, and no way to spend it. For the last ten years, he had been in constant service to those with whom he now stood. Completing tasks, killing beasts, thwarting foolhardy bids for power, retrieving lost or stolen mystical items; amidst it all he had never had a life of his own. And even before his years of servitude, he had been a warrior of Sparta. And as such, his life was dedicated to its glory and prosperity; constantly making advancements in war. It had only been between battles that he had been given a shred of life, and a family. He once again winced in pain at their memory. He had spent so little time with them. His daughter had grown up without a father. And his wife had cared for her without a husband. With Ares gone, along with the hatred he had held for him, all there was left was the guilt.

As his eyes grew heavy and his muscles grew weak, Kratos leaned back against his throne with the knowledge that he could finally rest; his revenge fulfilled after ten long years. As much as he feared his terrible nightmares, his body would allow him to move no longer. The torches in the hall dimmed, as if in response to his exhaustion, and the great bronze doors slid closed with an echoing click. Soon, the new God of War's world turned to blackness.

* * *

She gazed upon her city through the Mystic Waters within her chamber. Buildings were destroyed, fires blazed, the seas had risen into the streets momentarily, and many of its citizens were dead. Yet she felt confidence in her heart. With her brother Ares dead, she knew Athens would heal and prosper again. Athena, the Goddess of Peace and Wisdom looked away from the Mystic Waters to see Helios streaking across the sky above Olympus in his fiery chariot, dragging the sun behind him. With the fall of night, the stars above were plainly visible to the world. She looked up and marveled at the hundreds of constellations above. Perseus, Orion, the Pegasus; all noble tales of heroism. As her gaze moved upon the mortal world below, her mind moved over her most favored mortal. Kratos. He had saved her city, and many others from Ares' reckless lust for power. And from Ares' final remarks toward her father, perhaps Olympus had been spared as well. Making Kratos a god and repairing his blades did not seem payment enough; an empty throne needed to be filled, and re-forging the blades took no effort. Perhaps Zeus would see fit to grant him a constellation as well?

Feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from her breast, she breathed a sigh of relief. All was well once again. And if not, it was only a matter of time; a luxury the Gods of Olympus could certainly spare. She returned her attention to the Mystic Waters, willing them to show her what had become of Kratos after entering the portal. The hall was dim, the doors closed, and Kratos was resting in his throne. Excellent. But upon a closer look, she noticed that Kratos was indeed resting, but not comfortably. Not at all. He twitched frequently, and his face warped and twisted as if he were being stabbed. It was terrible! It struck her that after ten years, only now did she see the effects of those nightmares he had fought so strongly to rid himself of. It hurt her, more deeply than she would have thought, to see him in such pain that no enemy could possibly inflict.

But as deeply as her sympathy ran for the warrior, Morpheus's charms were beginning to affect her as well. Turning away from the Mystic Waters and her view of the world below, she walked to her bedchamber. Upon reaching the room of marble and stone, comfortably warmed by the winds from Hades, she found her armor case. Opening the mystically-sealed cabinet, she began removing her many golden pieces of apparel and placing them in their proper place beside her own twin blades. She began with her breastplate and finished with her tiara and earrings, wearing no more than her soft silken robe. Being a Goddess representing virginity, there lay no man in her soft bed; not so for her sister Goddesses. Why even now, she could hear Aphrodite moaning in her chamber, noting her own beauty.

As she passed through the silk veils and crawled upon her soft bed, she turned, expecting her owl Bubo to be there. But then she recalled that he was joining Artemis on another of her hunts. She yawned, and with a sense of satisfaction at the days events, she too fell into a deep slumber, though much more peacefully than others.


	2. Chapter II

Chapter II

The world was a whirling tempest of color and light around him. The screams of innocent people and the roar of fire filled his ears as he seemed to have no control over his body. His steps were frantic, hurried by the lust for blood and victory. His soldiers slaughtered the villagers all around him while their village burned. He burst through the wooden doors of the temple as it burned as well. His blades flew through the air swiftly and viciously, sending several men to their deaths as they attempted to escape. The flames within the temple sent shadows dancing around him, drawing his eyes left and right for prey.

Finally setting his sights on two of the shaded people, he released his blades with an air of satisfaction. But the feminine screams that filled his ears and the temple turned those feelings on their ear, sending a chilling realization through him as though lord Zeus had struck him. He looked upon the figures he had slain as they lay clearly now on the ground, as though the shadows had lifted somehow. As he watched the lifeblood flow quickly from his wife and daughter, he could do naught but fall to his knees in anguish. The wrinkled crone face of the temple oracle appeared from the fires surrounding him, laughing that high-pitched cackle.

He looked upon his blood-soaked hands and reached for his loved ones, hoping to embrace them once more. But he grasped nothing but blood as he realized that the temple had now filled with it. He could not lift himself from his knees as the crimson liquid quickly drifted higher and higher. Over his head, and drowning him.

Kratos awoke with a start. His eyes shot open, blind for a moment as he found himself somewhere foreign. He shielded his eyes with his hand as he looked around the small room he found himself in, trying to calm his frenzied breathing from the nightmare. Soon enough his memory returned to him, and he looked around his chamber. The chamber of the God of War. He released a heavy sigh and leaned backward on his throne. Even becoming a god could not rid him of these nightmares. The previous nights events came rushing back to him. Athena saving him, her words, ascending to Olympus... Even for a warrior of Sparta, there was much to deliberate on. What would he do? Now that he was a god, nothing stood in the way of whatever he desired.

But as he thought to himself what desires could possibly linger in the back of his mind, his body called to him. There may not be any grand prize for him to seek, but for now food would suffice. He lifted himself from his throne slowly, as if he were unwilling to move forward in this room, or his life. He tried, with each step, to fill his thoughts with the satisfaction that he would now feast upon that which the gods did. Prize bulls, fresh exotic fruits, the purest wines...

His concentration was broken by the creaking of the massive doors at the end of the hall as they opened before him, blinding him with the morning light. As his eyes quickly adjusted to the brightness, he heard a deep voice and footsteps approaching him.

"Good morning to you, my boy!"

The vaguely familiar voice echoed through the empty hall as Kratos recognized his... visitor. The heavyset man stood slightly taller than he, draped in robes of wine-purple and gold. Kratos sighed as he looked upon the scuffy-bearded, annoyingly-cheerful face of the god of wine and pleasure.

"Lord Dionysus."

His voice belayed his sense of annoyance to the pleasure god, who stepped forward and wrapped one of his great arms around Kratos' back, grasping his shoulder as he chuckled deeply.

"No need for titles, Kratos! You're an Olympian now! And as such you are open to all the glories that entails, beginning with your very own celebration!"

The very thought of a social gathering turned Kratos' stomach, portrayed by his brushing Dionysus' hand from his shoulder and stepping forward toward the doorway with renewed vigor, speaking coldly back to the rotund god.

"I have no time for such things."

"Really?"

"Indeed."

He replied coldly to Dionysus' obnoxious tone. Truly anything would have been better than being surrounded by those who had used and betrayed him over the last ten years of his life. He allowed his need for nourishment to push him forward and away from his transgressor.

"Well then answer me this, my boy."

He didn't bother stopping. He was nearly across the threshold of the hall, nearly free!

"What else have you to do?"

Dionysus' words stopped him in his tracks. His point had struck him so. T'was almost as if Kratos' worries and troubles were an open book here in the land of the gods. As for answering the question, Kratos truly did not know. As sickening as the thought was, a social gathering among the gods would doubtless be adorned with wondrous and rare dishes. Such was to his liking, and his need. But the wine god's knowing tone infuriated him, and he refused to give him the benefit of the last word. He turned to face the fat fool.

"Very well, I will attend your celebration. Even gods and Spartans require nourishment."

Dionysus' face lit with cheer, his already-blazing cheeks becoming that much more rosy. He approached Kratos with arms raised and spirits seemingly high.

"Splendid! I will aid you with the other gods. These halls are filled with those both for and against you, Kratos. Though I suppose it has always been my way to stay in the between, eh?"

Kratos once against pushed away the pleasure god's hand as it clapped him on the back.

"Do not think me a child, Wine God. I need no help from you."

The Olympian simply gave him a knowing, irritating grin.

"As you say, Kratos. Haha. As you say."


	3. Chapter III

Chapter  
III

Soon the two Olympians had arrived in the main dining hall of the great fortress of the gods. The ceilings were merely the blue skies above them, while the walls were adorned with white marble & gold. Various tables and comfortable furniture lay scattered across the multilevel room, all being occupied by various gods dressed in white & gold engaged in conversation. It seemed as though every Olympian across Greece had gathered for the ceremony. Mortal servants moved across the crowded hall with food & drink of all sorts, and probably from the furthest reaches of the world.

Kratos stood with his back against a column, the cold steel of his blades against his back & the taste of pork on his tongue as he tore another chunk from the massive ham bone he held in his right hand. After living all his life sacrificing the best animals to the gods, it was somewhat satisfying to finally know what they tasted like. He knew it was easily the best pig he had ever eaten, but he wasn't about to admit that. As a mortal servant passed with a tray of food & wine, he quickly snatched a large glass and poured it down his throat. The smooth, sweet taste of the grapes was intoxicating. Even the finest Spartan palace wine couldn't rival its taste.

But his bitter mood could not be swayed even by the sweetness of Olympian wine, though not through a lack of trying. As he lowered the glass from his lips, he looked around the room at the gathered immortals with the slightest of sneers on his face. Artemis conversed with Nike & Nemesis about her latest hunt. Apollo gloated of his achievements to the harvest goddess Demeter and river god Alpheus. Poseidon spoke with Boreas about ships & various people Kratos had no interest in. On the highest pedestal sat Zeus proudly next to his wife Hera. Though the two couldn't have looked more different in physical stature. Zeus' stature was tall and muscular, like a war horse. And his age marks made him seem a regal king. Hera, on the other hand, was lean and small, like a young tree. The creases & wrinkles across her exposed arms & face spoke of her age in a sickly way. And she was far too indulged in her wine to notice her husband ignoring her. He was conversing quietly with his daughter Athena.

Kratos momentarily forgot about his food & drink as he looked upon her. She was dressed in a beautiful tight white gown with golden trim. Many Olympians wore the same design, but something about it on her seemed... fitting. Her hair sat behind her head in a bun held by a golden pin. A small golden sash sat around her small waist while the dress flowed down far enough to cover her shapely legs as she sat next to her father. Her full lips moved softly, casually, while her green eyes spoke of purpose. He watched as she shifted her soft legs from one position to another beneath her dress, only to have a heavy clap on his shoulder destroy his concentration. He merely closed his eyes & growled in frustration. He did not need to look to know it was once again Dionysus.

"Kratos, my boy, why do you act so glum?"

The large god took a gulp from his own wine glass. They had separated upon entering the hall, and he had hoped it would have stayed that way. Apparently it was, like many other things, too much to hope for.

"This party is for you after all. And you know it's a special occasion when I am invited. Even Boreas is here! We are hardly ever invited to the pantheon. Really, Kratos, you should be honored!"

"You are the god of wine & pleasure. I am sure you haunt these halls as much as Zeus allows. And Boreas seems to have pressing business with Poseidon. There is no cause for celebration."

Kratos ensured that every word was like a dagger aimed at the wine god for insisting that he attend this "party," taking another bite of ham afterward.

"You have me there, Spartan, but the point is: this is all for you. Here and now is when & where you make your first and lasting impressions on the gods of Olympus."

"I care not for the opinions of petty immortals."

He washed the meat down with another sip of wine as he looked around at the people he was quietly insulting, most pointedly at Dionysus, who returned his cold stare.

"Kratos, you're a man to drive a god to drink. Haha."

The old fool chuckled at his own bad joke as he again guzzled more wine & spoke.

"Kratos, see reason. I know what men like you want. Power, yes?"

He didn't bother waiting for a reply before taking another sip of wine & continuing.

"Here on Mount Olympus is where all the power in all the world comes from. Making friends here can gain you more power than you could have ever dreamed of whilst living in Sparta. Take Boreas for example. Merely exchanging a few kind words with him could give the Spartan fleets the edge in sea warfare."

The babbling drunk had finally begun to make sense. He was the god of war, after all. And a Spartan as well. The glory of his home land was indeed a concern of his. But his mind wandered still, once again to Athena as she spoke with Zeus. He noticed the fullness of her breasts, her soft cheeks and the way the emeralds atop her headdress brought the color of her eyes to light. But once again his attention was robbed. This time by the hideous stench of Dionysus's breath. He looked to his left to see the wine god's face nearly next to his own, and staring in the same direction, toward Athena. He watched as another knowing grin slowly spread across the wine god's bearded face and glared as the larger man moved over to lean against the column beside him.

"Although..."

Dionysus took another sip from his wine glass and closed his eyes as he continued.

"I suppose there could be things on this mountain other than power that might interest you."

Feeling somewhat embarrassed for being exposed in his ogling, Kratos spat back a reply.

"Be quick with your words."

"Even the most impossible things are attainable, my boy. And when you have readied yourself to perform such attaining, I will be waiting."

With that, the large pleasure god strode across the room to converse with Hestia, goddess of the hearth. He eyed the large Olympian as he stripped the last bit of meat from the ham bone and tossing it aside. At last, it seemed Kratos could finally sit in peace.

Or so he had thought. He heard a whoosh of air & saw a flash pass through the crowd of Olympians to the stairs of Zeus' pedestal. Hermes, the messenger god, stood before his king and played a loud string on his harp. The crowd of immortals ceased their talking and looked toward him. His flaming crown & boots made a brilliant sight, though the his spindly frame and rat-like face were less than masculine.

"Gods and goddesses, it is time for the ceremony to begin! Hail mighty Zeus!"

Hermes bowed low and stepped aside like a good servant as his master stood. That fly of a man would lie down as Zeus' rug if it would gain him approval. An applause grew from the crowd as Zeus stepped forward, grinning beneath his long, silvery beard and raising one of his muscular arms in greeting. Kratos did not despise Zeus, but his arms remained folded across his chest in defiance & as testament to his foul mood. After a moment, the thunder god's hand flattened toward the crowd for silence.

"My fellow Olympians."

His deep voice boomed throughout the chamber as he spoke, commanding even Kratos' attention.

"In all the years since our victory against the Titans, we have remained a strong, righteous, guiding force over the mortals beneath us. We have been a united group that has shaped this world to be nearly a paradise for ourselves & those that worship us. We have been a family among the clouds."

The old man paused for effect, receiving several nods, shouts, and claps of approval. Kratos scoffed and took another sip of wine. He had seen the torment & horrors the gods had visited on the mortals, first hand. And their passive squabbling had ruined more lives than he could count. He noticed that Hades had not appeared. He knew the tale they all told of. He was simply "preoccupied with his more important matters in the Underworld." This was true, but the main reason Hades never came to Olympus was because of the irreconcilable differences between he & his brothers.

And then there was Hephaestus, the smith god. He too was absent. Though he was married to the most beautiful and egocentric of the goddesses, Aphrodite, he hardly showed his face around Olympus anymore. Everyone knew she had made bed with his predecessor to produce Eros, the god of love. Even now, Kratos could see her flirting with Hermes; an act reserved only for the lowest of whores. He took another sip of wine to settle his stomach as Zeus continued.

"But it is true that through these past few decades we have grown apart; splintered by our feelings. And our lack of cooperation has affected us all."

Kratos somehow kept his composure from laughing at the gravity of the god king's understatement, helped somewhat by the somber tone he had now taken, lowering his face and hands in semi-sadness.

"Prometheus, who stole the fires of Olympus. Persephone, who betrayed us and nearly plunged the world into unending darkness. Even my own son turned against me. Ares viciously destroyed the city of Athens, and in his final moments threatened to use Pandora's Box against Olympus, if only to gain my recognition."

Zeus placed his hands on his hips, still staring at his feet in some sort of self-pity. And the other Olympians were eating out of the palm of his hand. Kratos had by now grown tired of Zeus' blathering, like that of a politician. So many words to say nothing at all. He took another sip of wine and instead focused on Athena, who stood behind and to the left of her father.

She had a look of blank indifference on her face as her father droned on. He took a moment to once again study her features. She held her hands down over her stomach, pulling her robe tightly against her and outlining her womanly assets. Beautiful indeed. His eyes once again traveled up to her face, noting her smooth, pale, perfect skin; as if it were carved from white marble. He watched her eyes move over the crowd, slowly closing in on him. After a moment their eyes met, and Kratos was stunned. He was drawn into the deep pools of emerald green as a small proud smile grew across Athena's lips. He managed to blink, realizing how intently he had been staring, returning the wine glass to his lips and his attentions to Zeus as he continued.

"But now, we have a chance to redeem ourselves. The mortal who has served us faithfully for the past ten years, and thwarted the unending threats to our reign, has joined us on Mount Olympus."

A few whispers went out among the crowds, and several people looked back toward him as he leered at them over another sip from his wine glass.

"May the rise of this mortal-made-god bring us together, to right our wrongs and begin a new chapter in our reign over this world. Step forward, my boy!"

One of Zeus' great arms extended toward Kratos, and with it all the eyes of Olympus.

* * *

_A/N: I thought that a decent place to stop this installment. It was getting WAY too long. So it seems Kratos has found himself in a ~gasp~ social situation. Don't worry, there'll be plenty of time for mutilations & monsters later. XD I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you readers who have given me so much support on this little pet project of mine. I really appreciate all the kind comments._  
_And a cookie goes to those who can point out the other GoW game references I threw in. ;)_


	4. Chapter IV

Chapter IV

A curtain of silence suddenly fell on the mountain, weighing against Kratos. Brooding over his future in his own chambers was one thing, but he would not show weakness in front of all Olympus. He felt the piercing stair of a hundred eyes boring into him from all angles, and slowly unfolded his arms. Gulping down the last remnants of wine, he placed the cup on a nearby table and began walking forward through the crowd. He looked into the eyes of nearly every immortal as he passed, they making a hole for him. As he stalked forward, he thought back to Dionysus' words._ "Here and now is when & where you make your first and lasting impressions on the gods of Olympus... Making friends here can gain you more power than you could have ever dreamed of..."_ With these thoughts in mind, he stepped forward more proudly, as a king would when passing through the ranks of his army.

Within moments he stood before Zeus on his platform and turned to look out over the crowd. It was truly a magnificent view. Not of the gods, but of the sky. The sun shone softly, peeking over the swirling white clouds, with the columns of this hall making a frame around the image. The cool wind from the top of the mountain and the heat from the sun moved over his skin evenly while the brisk air rejuvenated him with each breath. If there was one thing, if anything, that Kratos envied the gods for... this was it. This perfect sight. This perfect feeling. And this perfect sense of calm he felt as he looked out over it all.

Zeus's hand on his shoulder brought Kratos back from his fantasy, and returned him to his senses. He looked out over the gathered Olympians plainly, and then to Zeus, who had a fare smile upon his strong face.

"_Well, lad? May we count on you?"_

Kratos took a quick glance over the crowd once again, staring into the eyes of the gathered Olympians. He remembered how the gods' promise to rid him of the nightmares had been broken, and an anger flared up inside him that even Dionysus' words couldn't extinguish. He held it in his thoughts to refuse Zeus' offer and demand retribution. But as he turned back toward the king of the gods, he caught sight of Athena standing just behind him. She carried the slightest of smiles on her feminine lips, and her eyes held an air of pride about her, while her stare seemed to egg him on without words.

Kratos had never considered himself a politician. He had never wanted to. War on the battlefield was horrible and taxing enough. Indirect war among minds held endless complications. He tried to reason within himself that it would only be a few words. But he knew that words held power within them that could hardly be measured. And he also knew that politics was a slippery slope. One word, one promise, one lie, would lead to another until he spoke nothing but falsehoods. But as he debated within himself, he realized just how long the moment had extended, how crushing the silence felt, and how nervous everyone seemed to be growing. Athena's brows raised in expectancy, and even Zeus' gray eyes seemed calculative as they looked into his. It was time to make his decision.

Tossing aside his internal strife, he looked into Zeus' eyes and braced the god king's extended arm with his own firmly. The powerful limb felt as covered stone beneath his pale hand, and matched the powerful grip with his own. He felt Zeus' power over the lightning emanate through him with massive yet restrained intensity.

"_You have my backing, Lord Zeus."_

The old king's jaw set into a firm grin before clasping a hand to Kratos' shoulder and tilting his head backward in a hearty laugh reminiscent of an oncoming storm. He heard a small clap begin and swiftly grow to a full applause as Zeus laughed. He switched hands to raise Kratos' arm into the air victoriously, turning them to directly face the crowd.

"_To a greater Olympus!"_

The applause grew slightly at the king's words and Kratos looked out across the crowd, greeted by a sea of grins, both half and full-hearted, as well as several wine glasses. At the far right of the room Kratos saw Dionysus raise his large glass slightly in toast, eying him over the golden rim. As he looked around the crowd for more familiar, possibly more useful faces, he noticed clapping coming from behind him. He turned to see Athena clapping proudly, her green eyes beaming merrily at him. His worries could wait. For now, it seemed he could do nothing but follow the tide and live in the glory of the moment. And after finally breaking his gaze at Athena, he realized that it was a decision he was content with, for now.

* * *

Even as she walked the halls of Olympus hours after the celebration had ended, Athena felt pride lift her every step. Everything had gone splendidly. Her father had openly welcomed Kratos into the pantheon for all to see, and he had accepted!A light smile spread across her lips. Everything was in order, and her vassal had finally received his reward. Although, now that she thought of it, Kratos had been more than a simple vassal. He was... something different, that she couldn't quite discern at the moment. He had faithfully served her... Olympus... for the past ten years, surviving every peril and completing every task effectively. She did not entirely agree with his methods, but could respect his warrior spirit.

As a matter of fact, the only reason she was wandering the halls of Olympus at this time of night was to go see him. She wanted to know how he was adapting to being above the clouds. In her white nightgown, light green shawl for the cold, and sandals, she had set out from her restless bed. And being that her bed stood at opposite ends of the castle from her former brother's, it was a bit of a walk. Though she didn't mind. She had paced these halls many times in the dead of night. It was, admittedly, a form of escape. Since she had been young she had been jealous of her sisters, even as they mocked her. She had been a frail and unremarkable child, while her sisters became beautiful or strong, either way garnering respect and admiration among the mortals as well as their father's love and attention. While Aphrodite was worshiped for her beauty and Artemis for her raw talent, she had been cast aside, ignored. And so, with no talents to speak of and no responsibilities thereof, she did the only thing she could do amidst the great castle. She walked. She explored. She grew to know the halls of Olympus well, each hallway and corner like a familiar friend. That is, until one day she became tired of the familiarity, her mind aching for...

_"More."_

A gruff, weary voice broke her from her thoughts, followed by the clang of metal upon metal, and the quick pitter-patter of sandals. She looked up, suddenly aware that she had been staring at her feet half-blindly as she walked, to see the source of the sandals exit the room only several yards before her. A young servant girl walked quickly toward her with a serving platter and a large wine pitcher. She bowed low as she approached her, speaking softly before continuing on.

_"My lady."_

She nodded slightly in return before quickening her own pace toward the room. Who else would be roaming these halls at this hour? Though as she approached the archway, she somehow knew. She turned the corner to see, illuminated only by the moonlight, Kratos. He sat hunched over in one of the marble chairs, and she realized that this was the Grand Viewing Room. The walls of the great circular room had been enchanted to mimic the time of day, creating the illusion that there were no walls at all, and a giant circle had been cut from the ceiling to allow the light in from the natural sky. And at the center of the room, leaving only just enough space to sit and walk around, was a massive pool that served as a portal to the world below. Like the Mystic Waters that sat in her room, and the rooms of most gods, it showed any portion of the mortal world that the viewer wished. This room was used as a council hall when visual aids where necessary.

She entered the room and approached the side of the pool, but Kratos seemed not to notice her. His eyes were focused, intent on the image. His elbows lay on the edge of the pool while his arms tented with his hands before his mouth. He sat to her far left and, being the only god using the pool at the moment, the view was turned to face him. She walked calmly toward him to get a better look, unable to identify the area displayed from her angle. As she approached his chair from behind, she looked into the pool again, now recognizing the area as the kingdom of Sparta. The flowing wheat fields and the strong stone walls gleamed calmly in the bright moonlight. It was beautiful. Serene, even. She approached him to get a better look, stepping beside the throne.

_"Is that your home?"_

Kratos growled angrily in response.

_"That is not your concern... Athena!"_

As he looked toward her, the anger in his voice was immediately replaced with regret and surprise. He immediately jumped from his seat as a sign of respect. A man as powerful and indomitable as Kratos had jumped like a frightened rabbit. It made her smile and hold a hand to her mouth to restrain her giggling. Her muted laughter obviously affected him, and he straightened himself quickly.

_"I... apologize. I thought you were the serving girl with my wine. Forgive me."_

_"No harm done."_

She could forgive him this once. She hadn't expected him to adjust to Olympus's refinements immediately. In an unfamiliar world, a guarded attitude was the best. She returned her eyes to the image in the pool.

_"So this is Sparta, is it?"_

She sat on the very edge of the pool for a better look. He cleared his throat and continued.

_"Yes. My home. These wheat fields surrounded the walls of the city on all sides. Calliope and Lysandra would play among them often."_

_"They're beautiful."_

_"Yes. They were."_

She noted the faint sadness in his voice and the hopelessness in his gaze. Regret stung at her. She should not have approached the subject, as it obviously caused him grief. He cleared his throat and continued, a renewed, professional vigor in his voice.

_"But they weren't simply placed there for beauty. They were placed there for food, as well as for attacks on the city."_

Kratos, seeming eager to change the subject, touched the pool and the image changed to an aerial view of the city, showing the fields completely surrounding it. He pointed as he spoke.

_"When an attack on the city was anticipated during a season, we would let the weeds grow high, and use them to conceal forces on the outside of the walls. Alternatively, we would use the catapults along the walls to launch jars of flaming oil into the fields, setting the grass ablaze and burning the enemy as they neared the walls."_

Several things struck Athena as Kratos spoke. He was a brilliant tactician, despite his brutal methods. And from the way he spoke, he might have designed some of these battle plans he described. Secondly, although he spoke as a professional, she noticed his focus and his balance wavering. And third, she noted the heavy scent of the wine on his breath, making an effort not to scrunch her nose. He had been drinking quite heavily, but physical evidence of this could only be gleaned by a close inspection. Assuredly, Kratos's many years as a soldier, and a grieving husband, had conditioned him to the consumption.

_"Are you well, Athena?"_

She blinked. As she came out of her thoughts, she realized that she had been staring at him, while he had continued on. Though now he had stopped, realizing this, and shifted his gaze away from her uncomfortably.

_"Oh... yes. Quite well. But what of you? How are you finding Olympus' hospitality?"_

_"I am... ahem... still finding it. It is..."_

He sighed heavily, retaking his seat in the throne before the pool.

_"It is difficult. Adjusting to this new life."_

_"It is an easy life here. No more struggling. We are the gods. There is little we cannot do."_

_"Yes. But struggling is all I have ever known. Now that I am without direction I feel... lost. I have known very little that I could not have. And even the Spartan would refuse to take me back, after all that I have done. There seems to be no place for me."_

She listened to Kratos' lament in silence. It had not dawned on her, the way mortal men lived. She had only truly interacted with them for her own purposes, as the gods did most often. She knew that each being in the universe had a purpose. Some knew their purpose, and strove toward it like a goal; a race. But it now dawned on her that those in constant service to the gods had, in some ways, become as children. They become engaged in something else guiding their life; their actions, their goals. All the while forgetting, or even forsaking, goals of their own. Just as a humble slave of many years will not leave their master lightly, Kratos was not yet ready to go unguided. She spoke again, soothingly.

_"Kratos, your place is here now. With us. Your place is to give others places of their own. Every being has a destiny. And as a god, you can help shape, or change, that destiny. Think of all those who have helped or bedeviled you along your journey. They all had a place in your life. A page in your story. Part of their destiny entwined with yours, sometimes because the gods bid it so. Now it is your turn to bid men and events to your will. You are the god of war. It is to you that brave warriors pray for protection, courage, and strength."_

Kratos sighed and leaned his head on his right fist somberly. The great viewing pool hazed over and cleared, the image of Sparta disappearing. She stood up and walked to the other side of the throne, attempting to say more that could lift his spirits. But he seemed in no mood to be cheered. Perhaps it was the drink. Or perhaps it was simply Kratos. Within a few moments she heard the familiar patter of sandals on the stone floor, and in walked the serving girl with another pitcher of wine for Kratos. He stirred and beckoned the girl to his side. As he raised his arm to grasp the pitcher his hand wavered, weakened, and toppled the pitcher, spilling the wine over the serving plate as well as the floor.

_"Clumsy wench"_

Kratos growled and stood up, looking as though to discipline the girl. Quickly she intervened, stepping forward and grasping Kratos's chest and forearm in a motion attempting to look collegian rather than restrictive.

_"I think the god of war has conquered the wine stores well enough for this evening. Clean this mess, and that will be all."_

Kratos merely grunted. The girl still looked frightened, as if still expecting punishment for a crime she had not wholly committed.

_"Yes, my Lady."_

It struck Athena that mortals walked these halls every day, and yet she had lamented about not knowing them well enough. She realized, somewhat shamefully, that she did not seem to register them in her mind. Perhaps the servants were treated unfairly in some way. But she had enough on her mind at the moment, and let the thought pass as the girl knelt to clean the mess of wine with a large rag she had been carrying.

_"Perhaps it is time to retire, Kratos. It is late."_

Kratos grunted once again.

_"Yes. Perhaps that would be best."_

She left her hand on his forearm and seemed to guide him out of the room. As they entered the hallway, she released Kratos and stood at his side.

_"I suppose I must be off to bed as well."_

She turned to leave, but looked back as she heard only silence. Kratos looked left and right, as if unsure of which way to go. She paced back over to him.

_"Kratos?"_

_"I... seem to have lost my way. Dionysus babbled as he led me to the feast and I could not focus."_

Kratos admitting defeat? He was surely drunk. And she realized that she did indeed have work to do.

_"He seems to have that effect on people."_

Truly she knew little of the wine god, even being the goddess of wisdom. But she spoke to leave him his pride in his compromised state.

_"I know the castle well. Would you like me to accompany you?"_

She stepped closer and saw that his eyelids were heavily lidded.

_"That would be... agreeable. These halls are maddening."_

She smiled.

_"Yes, I suppose they can be."_

Loosely putting an arm through his, she began what would perhaps be a long walk to the other side of the castle, with the inebriated Kratos in-tow.

* * *

A/N: Hey, readers. Sorry about the slow update, but the computer room is ice cold, and I've got a lot on my plate, with more to come. Hope you enjoy this chapter. I was going to write more, but it was getting a little long. Ah, well. More for chapter 5. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter V

Chapter  
V

As they had walked through the great hallways of the castle, Athena had had to support Kratos several times, though he seemed capable of walking on his own for the most part. He had consumed a veritable lake of whine before she had arrived, and it seemed that Dionysus and Morpheus worked well together. Fortunately she had been able to keep up conversation with him as they walked back to his chamber. Conversation in the form of his drunken ramblings, at least.

"I have done so many things... killed so many people... I often wondered whether I was truly working for a god... or a demon. Each time I murdered someone for that... that... that... whatever he was, I could not help but feel strange. I did not know if working for the gods gave me redemption for what I was doing, or if I was doubly damned..."

She had to feel some degree of sympathy for the man. Uncertainty was a powerful enemy. She tried her best to raise his spirits.

"But Kratos, you are a god now. Whatever pains or uncertainties that held you as a mortal are surely gone now, yes?"

Kratos merely grunted.

"Becoming a god carries its own uncertainties. It is not a wonder as to why there have been no previous promotions of the sort."

"What do you mean?"

"As a man, I was given purpose: A life for my family. The glory of Sparta. Conquest. But now... there are no more cities to conquer. Sparta is no longer my home. There is no... purpose for me anymore. I have no more goals."

Athena bit her lip. It was true, that the gods carried considerable power. As much so that they could do anything they wanted. They influenced and controlled the mortal world. And yet very few of her fellow Olympians showed... ambition, is what she believed Kratos spoke of. No goals for the future beyond their petty schemes. And truly, what guided all of their plans and schemes?

Her thoughts were cut short as she realized they had reached the God of War's hallway. The floor had become lined with bronze; cold despite its warm color. Black curtains draped over the walls, seemingly sucking all warmth from the hall. She looked at the torches high on the wall. Each lit as they passed beneath them. She recalled passing this way many times to plea to her brother. She recalled the terrible vision of Cerberus carved into the hilt of the torches. She shivered at the memory as she looked on them now. They took the form of war horses, as she had asked of Hephaestus. She thought Kratos would have liked them, but he gave no comment in his weary state. At last the bronze doors to his chamber loomed beside them. There were no carvings or designs in it as of yet. And it puzzled her somewhat. She managed to turn Kratos toward the doors in his stupor, and they swung open before them with a heavy click that echoed down the hall. As the doors opened fully, Athena gasped in surprise as she viewed the long, empty chamber. Kratos spoke again.

"Another uncertainty. Is this truly all that the gods have? I refuse to believe that a beast such as Ares lived in such... modesty."

Athena shot him a confused look, before once again eying the room. And it occurred to her. Of course no one had explained it to him. In fact, it should have been her duty. She scolded herself, although she had hoped he would have discovered.

"Oh, Kratos. Has no one told you the magic of the chambers?"

Kratos merely swayed drunkenly and spoke indignantly.

"I have been told nothing."

At last, she thought, a chance to teach _him_ something.

"Each of the chambers that the gods inhabit are imbued with special magic, allowing the room to change with the inhabitant's wishes."

Kratos stared quizzically. At least, she thought. His eyes were heavily lidded now.

"If you want something, simply wish for it. And it will appear."

"Bah. In Sparta, if you wanted a chair, you were to build one yourself..."

Kratos swayed as he stepped, and was forced to lean against the wall. She attempted to help him, but he swatted her hands away. The poor man. With a wave of her hand and a thought, a large circular section of the stone floor began rising up. As it turned, blue and silver slowly faded into the solid gray like a new color from an artisan's palette. The silver washed away the stone gray as the creation settled at shin-height. The blue spread over the silver, becoming soft and wrinkled. As the colors reached the edge of the construct, the spinning ceased. A small gust of wind blew through the chamber, and the blue covering the base of the construct swayed and waved; revealing the empty space beneath. Before them now stood a circular bed with a silver mattress and blue sheets. Kratos shambled over to the new bed, testing it with his hands.

"By the gods. All this from stone?"

Athena smiled to herself as he lay down upon the mattress and breathed a sigh of relaxation.

"Tis the most comfortable stone I have ever laid upon. How does it work? Where does the material come from?"

She held back the urge to launch into explanation. She merely placed a hand on his strong chest.

"Shh. Rest now, Kratos. We shall discuss more in the morning."

With that, Kratos's weary eyes closed. Sleep was almost immediate. Athena took a moment to look, but only a moment. He looked comfortable. Almost at peace. At least, as peaceful as she had ever seen him. She looked at his strong physique as he turned to lay on his side; each muscle flexing beneath his pale skin. She then looked upon the hand that had touched him. There was a strange, inexplicable sensation that she could not identify. With all her might, she cast it out of mind and turned toward the door. As she passed, the warhorse torches dimmed for Kratos's slumber, and the door clicked closed behind her. With a short glance at the doorway, and a thought of the man beyond, she began the long walk to her own chamber on the other side of the castle; once again lost in contemplation.

* * *

Kratos stirred in his sleep. Monstrous images flashed through his mind as he tossed and turned. Enemy soldiers aged and decayed in front of him, still fighting as though their innards had not spilled and their skin not rotted and dried up. Battle cries turned to otherworldly screeching. Men with blades and helmets became massive beasts with horns and claws. Flesh tore and bones cracked as mortal became monster. Climbing from the back of a man came a gorgon; every serpent upon its head hissing and drooling while the eyes burned and the rattled tail shook. The scaled tale swirled and coiled around its body until what remained was an immense cyclops. Muscle merged with fat as it towered over him, while its single eye shone with savage fury. Its mouth opened in a great bellow, and armor cut from beneath its skin, splitting it apart from the inside as it transformed into the great Minotaur of Pandora's temple. Flesh fell away to reveal hot, burning metal armor. It's eyes glowed red, and its horns shone gold and sharp. Steam burst forth from every crevice in its armor as it curled its arms in front of it in a defensive stance. And from that ball of armor burst forth massive spikes that resembled spider legs. The creature rose up again to a height twice what it had been, and turned around to face him. Kratos met the insane eyes of Ares, his former master, and felt himself burned by his gaze.

"You are no God of War, mortal. You are nothing. Nothing!"

Kratos woke from his dream with a start. His eyes opened to stare at the dark, bronze ceiling of his chamber. Intrigued by this new vantage point, he sat up and looked down at himself, laying upon a bed wreathed in blue sheets. Within moments his memory, and his headache, returned from the previous night. The stress and discomfort caused by the 'party' had led him to follow the sweet allure of Olympian wine. And by the time the gods had dispersed, he could not remember how to get back to his chamber. He had seen Dionysus leave with Hestia, Athena had been preoccupied with Zeus, and he had not felt like lowering himself by asking the other gods for help. Eventually he had found himself in a room with a large pool that showed images of whatever he'd wanted. Beyond that was lost to the wine, but he did vaguely recall someone helping him back here. And making this bed, as well, he thought as he stirred among the blue sheets. Could it have been Athena? His head pulsed with pain and forced him to abandon the question for the moment. His thoughts drifted to the nightmare he'd had. Even images of all the beastly horrors he'd faced, including Ares, could not rival his true nightmares...

Kratos sat up suddenly, braving the ensuing headache to avoid thinking about his family. He stretched out of reflex, realizing that he was not used to such comfortable bedding. It was a bit too soft for his liking, and it had left him stiff. He would have to make one for himself eventually. But at the moment, what he really wanted was to bathe. He once again looked around the room, noticing that there was no alcove for a bath. Feeling the sheets of the bed between his fingers, he remembered how it had come to be there the night before. He chose a spot in the wall of the room halfway between the great doors and his hydra-headed throne. He extended his hand, closed his eyes, and focused his thoughts on a bathroom. A short hallway leading to a large room of white marble. At one side, a small pool of water with cloth to clean his clothes. On the other, a similar pool raised up to chest-height by a pillar, with a small mirror mounted atop it. In the center of the room, a large pool of ever-heated water with descending steps within.

After a few moments of no response to his will, Kratos felt foolish, and opened his eyes. But as he looked upon the spot he had focused on, a detailed frame emerged almost silently from the wall while the very wall itself shrank back and pulled apart. He raised himself from the bed and stepped through the new doorway. The new room was just as he had imagined it; perfectly formed to his mind's eye. Even as he looked, water rose from the bottom of each pool he had designated, until they stood comfortably full. And before the thought had fully formed in his mind, the large bathing pool began to bubble and steam with heat. Magic of the gods, indeed.

With much relief he slid off his sandals and peeled open the belt of his toga, letting it fall to the ground as he stepped into the pool. Kratos sighed in sweet relief as each of his aching muscles was immediately soothed as they came in contact with the tepid water, just as breathing the steamy air cleansed his senses. The last time he had taken a proper, warm bath had been longer ago than he could account for. The soft, welcoming warmth that seemed to fill him up was immeasurably more inviting than the cold, salty sea. As he finally settled on the bottom step, the water risen all the way up to his chest, he let himself fall back to lay in the water, allowing himself to relax for the first time in... weeks, he realized. Pandora's temple had tested him harshly.

As the water reached his forearms, he felt the warm water sting at the wounds from the Blades of Chaos. Years ago, they had been seared to his very flesh. And Ares had ripped them from his arms before their final battle only two days ago. Though the wounds were somewhat soothed by the blades Athena had given him, he wished now more than ever that they could be removed. As he thought this, he saw a small blue glow emanate from his arms, followed by further burning as the water touched his wounds. He felt the steel slide over his arms, and lifted them from the water. The chains hung loosely. He angled an arm downward, and watched as the curled chain slid from his arm. He was free. The chains could be removed! Kratos suddenly felt a sense of empty joy. Would he no longer need the blades? The life of a god could indeed include battles, but how often? Would he truly need the blades at-hand within a second's notice? Indeed he was free... but what did that mean? He had only ever known combat. As the waves of the churning water lapped against his weary chest, he felt slightly dismayed. With some reluctance, Kratos slid the chains from his other arm and placed the blades, as well as their coils, on the floor beside the pool.

As his worries continued to fill his mind, pain from the previous night's wine filled his head. And just as the warm water soothed his body, he hoped it would soothe his mind; worries, wine and all. With a quick deep breath, he plunged himself beneath the water, allowing himself to be comforted by the weightlessness. Carefully exercising each muscle of his arms and back, he slowly swam across the pool. The motion, which he had for so long associated with times of danger and desperation, felt soothing and leisurely beneath the water. Perhaps the warmth was not the only enchantment upon the water, he thought. But he felt relaxed -and perhaps even peaceful- for the first time in ages. As he reached the end of the pool, he surfaced and breathed deeply, running a hand over his bald head, before surging forward and swimming back to the other side of the pool. Feeling at last awake and energized, he looked at the pool. For a bathing pool it was large enough to occupy several others. But for the purpose of swimming for exercise, it was quite diminutive. How he wished it was...

Before the wish could fully form in his mind, Kratos noticed the pool... no, the room... suddenly begin to widen. The walls of and across from the doorway extended, allowing the pool to become larger. And rather than the wash stations be at opposite ends of the room, he decided he should shift them to either side of the doorway. And so he did. He watched as the fixtures slid along the walls, without even the slightest sound of stone moving. He turned in the pool to watch them slide along the wall and stopped as he looks toward the doorway. Standing there, leaning against the wall, was the goddess of the hunt: Artemis.


	6. Chapter VI

Chapter  
VI

Artemis was not a tall woman, Kratos observed as she stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall on one leg. She stood perhaps half a foot shorter than himself. Her eyes were a deep ebony brown, matched by her wavy, untamed hair kept out of her face by a simple silver tiara, and flowing just over her shoulders. She wore a plain white dress reaching from her shoulders to just above her knees, with a dipping neckline that revealed the slight upper portions of her breasts. Her arms, which he noticed were firm and tan, were crossed in front of her chest as if waiting. Leather sandals with several bracing ties rode up her legs, also strong and tanned from work. Her physique came from her experience in the hunt, no doubt.

"You've learned of the castle's magic, I see."

She spoke nonchalantly; as if she had not silently entered someone else's chambers and watched them bathe naked. From what Kratos knew of the Huntress, he had thought she would be more... polite in these matters. Not that he cared much. He was a proud man. Nevertheless he casually waded across the pool to where his toga lay. And considering his... state... in front of a goddess notorious for the fierce defense of her virginity, he chose his words carefully as he spoke, reaching for his toga to cover himself as he did.

"To what do I owe this unannounced visit?"

The goddess stood from her pose in the door frame and stepped toward him.

"I wanted to see the man who bested Ares in combat."

Kratos instinctively sneered at the mention of the name.

"He was a monster. He was drunk with power, and overconfident. He died."

Kratos stepped fully from the pool and re-fastened the belt of his toga.

"A monster indeed, but no less a skilled warrior."

Kratos was becoming weary. Of both the conversation and the half-serious, almost playful tone and inquisitive smile from the goddess. He stepped back into his sandals and stepped past her into the small hallway.

"The student surpassed the master. That is all."

He was allowed to take a few paces in silence before she spoke again.

"Of that I have my doubts, Ghost of Sparta."

He heard her quick, quiet footsteps followed by a scraping of metal against metal, and turned around. However, he had not turned quickly enough. Within a second of hearing the sound, Kratos felt a blade at his throat. Before he could ready a stance, he felt his left arm pulled behind his back and pinned. Both her her hand, and the pressure of her body against him. He cursed himself for leaving his blades in the bathroom. He shouldn't have removed them at all! He strained his neck to look down at the blade, seeing that it was a hunting dagger of finely-sharpened stone in her right hand.

"Break free if you can."

Artemis's words provided all the advantage he needed. He quickly snapped his head backward, colliding with her forehead and drawing a pained groan. In her instant of weakness and confusion, he lifted his right hand to hers and pushed the blade away. He turned around on her and twisted the armed limb behind her back. She drove her free left arm into his chest once, but he kept his focus and gripped her wrist with his hand, pulling over her head and across her chest, subduing her.

"Why do you attack me?"

He roared in her ear, demanding an answer, but all he could hear were her quick breaths, and perhaps a small laugh as her lips turned up slightly into a smile. She struggled to gain her freedom, but it was not enough to break his grip. He felt his arm rub against her chest as she wriggled... or was it her chest that had rubbed against his arm? She struggled harder, turning the pair of them to the right. But what he thought had been a fruitless effort had become a tactical action. Suddenly Artemis surged forward, her strong legs running up the wall of the hallway until she was completely above him, and he could no longer retain his grip. He turned to face her as she landed behind him, but she did not attack. She simply leaned against the opposite wall, panting and eying him.

He backed against the opposite wall, himself breathing harder, and watched her for any movement that could be hostile. He watched her torso for movement, noticing that her contact with his wet body had soaked through the material, revealing just the fairest outline of her body. He could tell that the water... or perhaps the combat... had aroused her. Attempting to focus, he looked into her eyes, the ebony brown now turned even darker with... hunger. He noticed a small trickle of blood dripping down her forehead from her hair, just below where her silver tiara sat. She raised a hand to her forehead, wiping the blood on to her fingers. She smirked confidently upon looking at the blood, and the hungry look in her eyes seems satiated as she licked it from her fingers.

"Excellent."

She spoke calmly, but there was an almost inaudible curve to her voice that Kratos could only place as vague excitement.

"Even without your weapons, you keep your head."

He contemplated the possible dual meaning to her words as she straightened up and stepped toward him, extending her arm. He cast her a careful glance before straightening himself and accepting, grasping her forearm as she did his. Olympus continued to surprise him. Despite her position as the Goddess of the Hunt, and her obvious skill as a warrior, he did not expect it from her. Among soldiers it was a sign of respect, trust, and comradeship. But the look in her eyes and the smirk on her lips made Kratos wonder.

"Perhaps you really did defeat Ares at his own brutal game."

Kratos pulled free of the grasp and once again half-scowled at the name.

"Ares chose the wrong piece to play with. He lost."

Kratos was beginning to tire of his guest's games, and began walking toward the main chamber to escort her out. But she fell in step behind him and continued.

"If you would like to test your skills further, there is an arena I favor, for when I feel like a challenge."

Kratos dismissed her and spat back a reply.

"I have no time for games."

In truth he didn't, now that he knew the lengths to which he could alter his chambers. Perhaps he could step past the threshold of the hallway and close the wall behind him. Yet just as he was about to step through the arch, Artemis stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"I'm sure you'll find time for this one. Being that you have an eternity to waste, _God of War_."

He stopped and eyed her, waiting for her to continue. There seemed to be no end to her.

"Hades has a coliseum in the Underworld. Like the halls here on Olympus, it can be made to suit any environment. And it's filled with souls aching for combat."

Kratos realized that as she spoke, Artemis was stepping closer to him, evaluating. Her cold ebony eyes calculating. He noticed, through her still wet toga, that she was still aroused from earlier. He determined that if it would make her leave, he would play her game. He stood strong, even thrusting out his chest slightly.

"I have fought battalions of men. Why would I waste my time?"

Artemis smiled slyly and giggled lowly, raising a hand to finger his chest. As he attempted to stare her down, he recognized once again that she was a goddess, after all. A beautiful woman, and a strong warrior at that. He had scarcely met women with attributes he could respect.

"I said souls, Kratos. Not only men, but women and beast alike. All shapes, and all sizes. I'm certain you'll find the greatest sport there during your time on Olympus. Or perhaps, the second-greatest..."

Artemis's smile stretched ever-so-slightly wider as her hand traveled up his chest to his shoulder. It was then that Kratos heard footsteps in the main chamber behind Artemis.

"Kratos?"

He looked over Artemis's shoulder to see Athena standing in the open doorway. She stood still, her features changing from curiosity to solemnity and patience as she met his gaze. He looked back to Artemis, surprised to find that she had stepped even closer to him, also looking toward Athena. After a moment she returned her eyes to him, removed her hand, and smirked before looking down at the floor and speaking.

"Well I believe I shall take my leave now, God of War. I see that you have other business to attend to."

"Artemis."

He regarded her as she began walking toward the door. He watched as she did, and saw that the back of her dress, like the front, had been dampened by contact with his torso. Only much more so. The fine, light material revealed her strong shoulders, the feminine curve of her back, and almost reaching down to her bottom. He could not be certain, but by the way she walked he suspected that she was aware of her indecency. As she passed Athena, giving her an acknowledging nod, she turned around to look at him again, stepping backward through the door.

"I'd like my sword back, by the way. You may bring it to my chamber at your leisure."

She cast another smirking glance at Athena.

"I'm sure you can find your way."

With that, Artemis disappeared down the hallways of the castle. After a moment, Kratos addressed Athena.

"Athena... I was not expecting you. Artemis arrived while I was bathing, unannounced."

Kratos was a man of great experience in all sorts of peril. And while the wrath of the gods did not frighten him to the degree of others, he still hoped to quell whatever feelings swam in Athena's mind. He had learned once how a woman's face could foretell her actions. Athena stepped toward him calmly, though without the usual air of confidence in her voice.

"Oh, I see. How was your rest last night? You were in quite the state."

"I awoke with a terrible ache, but I slept. Was it you who made the bed last night?"

"Yes."

Athena's cheeks flushed somewhat, but she spoke again to change the subject.

"You say you were bathing. Have you made a bath?"

"Yes. I... crafted one after waking."

"Could I see?"

Athena seemed somewhat enthused. He merely stepped aside and made a vaguely welcoming gesture. She sped down the small hallway toward his makeshift bath. He reluctantly followed.

"This hallway is a bit small. But this bath is fine for your first attempt at creation."

"It suits my purposes."

She stepped over to the washbasin for his clothing, questioningly.

"What purpose does this serve?"

"Washing the blood and dirt from my garments, of course."

"Oh, Kratos. Clothing made for the gods, by the gods, does not stain or wear easily. And if they did, it is only a question of will to correct them."

Kratos was once again impressed with the magic possessed by Olympus, but did not let it show in his features. He thought back to Artemis, who had left his room in wet robes. Only a question of will, or want... He brought his mind back to Athena before his mind wandered too far.

"I see. To what do I owe your visit, Athena?"

"Oh yes, I had forgotten. Last night you commented that you had had a difficult time navigating the castle, so I thought that I would show you around a bit. "

Kratos thought deeply on Athena's words. Indeed, he hadn't the slightest clue as the castle's layout. That was twice now that he had been rudely interrupted by... unexpected 'guests.' If he were to continue exploring his new powers as a god, he had to start somewhere. A knowledge of the castle would grant him a tactical advantage.

"Shall we go then?"

He made another mild gesture, indicating that she take the lead. Despite his determination to learn, at the moment he had other things on his mind.


	7. Chapter VII

Chapter  
VII

She had been excited for this visit. A chance to teach the ever-confident Kratos was a rare opportunity. She had worn one of her favorite aqua-green robes, and her emerald-laden tiara as well. When she found Kratos's door open, she had been concerned. He was not the sort of man to be inviting, and careless even less so. She should have expected one of her sisters to start in on Kratos, but she would have believed Aphrodite, even Nike or Nemesis, before Artemis. As she walked with Kratos through the shining marble halls of the castle, Athena only just realized how affected she had been. Not only affected, but angry. It surprised her. Kratos was a man, and he could allow whomever he liked into his chamber. As she attempted to turn a corner, Kratos spoke.

"Is this to be a tour, or shall we walk in silence?"

Athena blinked and realized where she was. She had once again become lost in her pondering. She was supposed to be showing Kratos the ways through the castle. Think, Athena. You have been awaiting this since last night. Focus yourself! After a moment of internal speaking, Athena dismissed her quandaries and assessed her position in the castle before turning and speaking to Kratos. They had exited his chamber and gone to the right, opposite the way Artemis had gone. They had now reached a four-way intersection.

"My apologies. This hall to the left leads to a veranda that continues along the outer walls of the castle. This hall to the right goes further into the castle, and turns to the left. First you will reach Apollo's chambers, followed by Asclepius, god of Healing, Helios, so on and so forth until you reach the other side of the castle. And this hallway ahead of us continues around the castle, as an interior pathway beside the veranda."

"Why is there so much empty stone? I should think a castle of the gods would have more to it."

Athena could hear the usual disdain in his words, but it sounded more like an honest question.

"The large halls and empty space is for the benefit of the gods, so that they may expand their chambers as much as they like without encroaching upon one another. It was a funny story you could ask of Hephaestus."

Kratos made no comment as she continued forward, leading down the hall through the castle.

"The chambers of the God of War, your chambers, accompany those of the other male gods on the left side of the castle. From the main gate, that is."

"Why?"

Once again, honest interest pervaded his voice. She must be getting used to ignoring his flippant tones. But soon she would break him of his foul attitude. She made that oath behind a small smile on her lips before answering.

"Many of the goddesses have taken vows of chastity, and so Zeus saw fit to separate the sexes. To deter... unproductive thoughts."

"And I am sure all of the gods are happy to obey this unspoken rule."

Kratos replied in a falsely-virtuous tone. Athena chose to ignore it.

"It is also to keep the opposing forces apart and peaceful. The castle is more or less identical on both sides, with each god having his opposing goddess opposite the castle in the same position. For example, my chambers are on the opposite side of the castle from yours."

"And Artemis's chamber is behind yours?"

Athena waited a beat to answer that. Artemis had given her a knowing, perverse look when she had found her in Kratos's chamber, and her sister was not among her pleasant thoughts at the moment. How dare she imply that she had plans or interests of that nature for Kratos! He had served her loyally for many years, proving himself a powerful, valiant warrior. She was merely repaying the debt owed to Kratos that she could not provide with the removal of his dreams. But as she thought on, Athena remembered exactly what Artemis had done. She had simply raised an eyebrow. And perhaps given a smirk. So simple. She had barely said anything at all. How could she have possibly let such simple things get to her so deeply? She realized they were once again approaching an intersection and dismissed her troubled thoughts before Kratos could raise another complaint. White marble walls met golden columns and the white ceilings met a deep blue center, depicting constellations in the sky. Red banners hung from the ceiling at the connecting sections of the hall, and the three sets of massive silver chains ran inside the golden columns, exposed only by a quarter of the surface. Finally, a lever sat at her left, reaching down into the floor.

"This intersection leads to the upper and lower floors."

Kratos looked to his left and right, puzzled.

"You've lost your head. There is only the hallway before us."

Athena felt like giggling and slapping herself at the same time. She had completely forgotten how primitive the world below was, compared to Olympus. And it was beginning to wear on her. She, the Goddess of Wisdom who rules over mortals with her brethren, knows so little of the world below that she governs. She swallowed back the faintest of bad tastes in her mouth before Kratos could ask another question.

"What are these chains here for?"

He stepped over and grasped the cold metal, as if testing its strength warily.

"It is an elevation system for the castle. When called, the enchanted chains will raise or lower the floors and take the rider to the desired level of the castle."

"Ingenious."

"Yes, indeed. Originally there was only a single floor between all levels, but the idea was not met well. Gods would come and go at all hours, and there are several who reside here. Eventually the floors became too-often occupied and inefficient. Hephaestus finally added a second and third floor to each shaft, allowing for much easier transport."

She reached for the lever and grasped it. It was time to sample the lower floors. But once again, Kratos questioned her, drawing her attention away.

"What of the rest of this floor?"

"This floor is inhabited by the major gods, and a few of the less so, like Asclepius. You've already seen the Grand Viewing Room, which sits at the right side of the gates, and the Gathering Hall, which is center with the gate. To the left-hand side is the wine store, and the opposite side of the castle is a large servant quarters. The true treasures of the castle are yet to be seen."

Athena could not help but smile. She was about to show Kratos her pride and joy. Not only to her, it was a treasure to Olympus itself. And Kratos was becoming more and more... open, it seemed. Less restrained by his abrasive shell, allowing his curiosity, and it seemed some of his other emotions, to at last float to the surface. Athena felt excited at that. It proved that she was finally making some progress. Kratos would be a well-adjusted god in no time.

"I think you'll find the lower floors quite..."

"What is on the upper floors?"

"The floors above this one are for Poseidon, Zeus, Hera, the Muses, and Hermes. As well as several of their personal chambers."

"Can we not see them?"

"Father and Uncle are very busy, and I fear an unanticipated visit may only be a distraction. There is very little of interest up there, regardless."

Athena shifted somewhat. She was eager to show Kratos the lower floors, almost greedily so. She knew that Zeus and Poseidon had no extremely pressing matters at the moment, and Hera's garden was a fine sight to see, but she knew that if they visited they would be inevitably delayed with conversation. As she explored her reasons, as she had become accustomed to doing since Kratos's arrival, she realized that it seemed she wanted Kratos... all to herself. Of course she would never dream of thinking about him in any lewd terms, but she could not help her cheeks turning somewhat pink at what another might think.

Waving away her internal conflicts, she grasped the gilded lever and pulled it to the left. Mechanisms clicked and banged beneath her, and within seconds the floor began descending. The seconds stretched into minutes. And the minutes together seemed to last an hour. Kratos had said nothing, and she could think of nothing to talk about. He simply leaned against the wall opposite her with his arms folded, while she stood with her hands crossed next to the lever. Finally, he spoke.

"What is so impressive that you would forgo a tour around the castle and bring me down here to see?"

"Just be patient, Kratos. You'll see."

After another moment the mechanism came to a halt, and a hallway almost identical to the one they had just left lay before them. Kratos watched as Athena quickly stepped back in the direction they had come, looking back to ensure he was following. He did so. From what he could gather, they were on the south-facing wall of the castle, directly in-line with the main entrance. He could see pride grow in every step she took, just as his curiosity did. What could possibly be so grand that Athena would lead him down to the lower floors of the castle? Perhaps it was the treasure vault. The gods no-doubt held some manner of wealth in this fortress. Or perhaps it was a vast armory. Weapons made from the strongest, lightest materials in existence. As he walked just behind Athena, his mind burned with wonder. A feeling, Kratos realized, he had not felt in many years. As he made this revelation, he also noticed that Athena was staring back at him out of the corner of her eye; the smallest of smiles on her face. And while the sight was a pleasant one, he stiffened himself up a bit. They walked in silence for several moments, until Athena stopped before a hallway on their left, leading toward the center of the castle. She waited for him to stand just behind her before addressing him.

"Follow me closely, please. You can, quite literally, lose yourself in these halls."

With an eyebrow arched, he followed Athena down the new hallway. He noticed that the design of these walls differed from those of the previous hall. These walls were painted the deepest shade of black, with only the slivers of the golden square-vortex designs keeping him from feeling as if he had entered total darkness. As he admired the strange design, Athena turned a corner ahead of him. He cast it off absent-mindedly, knowing he would simply need to follow the wall. But as he came to the wall ahead of him, he realized that there was no turn. He was boxed in. He whipped around, half-expecting a wall of spikes to begin closing in on him out of pure reflex. But as he looked down the hallway from which he had come, he saw Athena poke her head from beyond one of several adjoining hallways.

"This way, Kratos. Please stay behind me."

Kratos hurriedly joined her in the next hall, insuring that he keep her in his sights as best he could. These halls were somewhat narrow, and every wall looked identical.

"Is this a maze?"

"Correct, Kratos. A maze to protect one of Olympus's most powerful treasures."

Athena's words fired his imagination anew, although he now made certain to keep his thoughts in check as the goddess guided him. He followed in silence for several minutes, wondering whether noise was a factor in the maze's path. They made endless left and right turns; even those he was certain would merely move them in reverse. At last, Athena stopped before him and spoke again.

"And here we are, sir."

Kratos looked around them. A hall sat behind them, and at either side. But there was no hall before them, as Athena seemed to gesture toward with her body.

"What trickery is this?"

Athena merely gestured to the floor with her emerald green eyes. As he followed her gaze, he saw it. If only just. Embedded in the black marble floor was a carving of a lightning bolt surrounded by a square. The bolt was outlined in gold, only scarcely visible at the edges. Kratos knelt down to examine the marking. It looked as if the bolt could be pressed into the floor, and so he did. The indentation depressed gently into the floor. But there was no sound of a mechanism moving. As he stood again, he realized that Athena had stepped forward, into the new, dark, hallway that had opened before them. He stepped up beside her in the strange, curtain-like darkness. He groped for the walls beside him, but found nothing of but air. He felt Athena grasp his hand in hers. It was soft. Smooth. Delicate. Much like the magical sheets from which he had awoken.

Her hand led his own to the wall at their left, which seemed to have spread out somewhat. With her fingers guiding his, he found yet another indentation of a lightning bolt and pressed it. At once the heavy curtain of darkness disappeared, leaving a blinding light in its place; as if the light being kept from the room were suddenly thrust inside all at once. Kratos squinted his eyes and stod blindly for a moment as Athena spoke.

"Observe, Kratos. The greatest treasure the gods possess. Welcome to the Library of Olympus."


	8. Chapter VIII

Chapter  
VIII

As his eyes adjusted to the sudden light, Kratos could scarcely contain his... disappointment. A library? Athena had focused their tour toward a library? Bah. Kratos was a man of action. The only knowledge a man needed was how to use a sword. Everything else would be gained along his travels. But as his vision cleared, her convictions failed him as he looked upon the immense room. The ceiling reached high above them, with a stained glass window with a visage of the sun. Like the Grand Viewing Room from the night prior, he imagined that the glass was meant to mimic the outside.

Reaching up to the ceiling, separating the high shelves of scrolls that seemed to go on indefinitely, were stone statues of the Three Brothers: Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. Each statue's eyes and armor glowed with a certain color; Poseidon blue, Zeus gold, and Hades red. Each held their weapons; Zeus with a massive lightning bolt, Poseidon with with trident, and Hades with his claws. Together they stood resolute, like massive guardians. And with what magics he had thus far seen, Kratos would not be entirely surprised to see them launch to the defense of this room.

"Glorious, isn't it?"

Athena's words returned him from his gazing.

"Indeed."

"After my many years of begging, Father finally commissioned that the library be as grand a hall as any other in Olympus."

He could only grunt in reply. And as Athena stepped forward into the library, he could only follow her.

"This library holds the irreplaceable history of Olympus, reaching back to the Great Titan War. Tales of the gods and their ilk, our interactions with the mortals, and even records of the many great empires and wars of mankind."

Again, Kratos was not enthused. His mind wandered to other things; other places in the castle he could explore, and ways he could change his new quarters. As his eyes wandered around the large chambers, staring particularly upon the statue of Zeus, he noticed a silvery glint. He blinked and looked more closely at the statue, stepping around to the left side.

"Kratos?"

Athena followed him, obviously wondering what could be distracting him from her lectures. He stared intently as the Zeus statue's right hand, which was bent down at the elbow and raised to the shoulder, fingers bent in a power-gripping pose. The golden brace on the forearm was much more detailed than that of the other arm. And the fingers were different somehow. Of course! He turned to Athena.

"Is that Zeus's Gauntlet?"

Athena released a short sigh, but her voice still seemed positive.

"Yes, that is father's gauntlet, the key to the Titans' chains. Being that the jailer guarding it was dead, he thought it would be safer here. No one would think to look in a library."

Indeed, it was a clever ruse. The gauntlet had aided Kratos well in his journey to stop Persephone years ago.

"Are there any other weapons stored here?"

Athena smiled cleverly, stepping past him into the multitude of shelves as she replied.

"Oh yes, quite a few. But not all weapons are gold and steel..."

Kratos followed Athena as best he could through the shelves, eager to find another weapon. Or perhaps a battle plan of some sort for wars fought in the past. He had rarely had the opportunity to look through the Spartan records between his many campaigns. Perhaps this was not as pointless a venture as he had thought.

At several points, Kratos lost his way among the volumes, only to be teased by an amused Athena. After a few moments of walking, Kratos caught up to the mischievous goddess. What would he find here? Perhaps Olympian battle plans? If they were crafted by Ares, he could no-doubt improve them. He watched as Athena sifted through the scrolls on the shelf and handed him one.

"I think this may interest you."

He took the scroll by its bronze ends and unrolled it slowly in front of him. They seemed to be blueprints, but he could not tell for what. As he unfolded it further, he recognized it as a city plan. Soon he began to recognize details. The slant of the Northern wall, the wheat fields, the king's palace, the river... it was a blueprint of Sparta! As he took a more cursory glance, he confirmed his suspicions.

"Are these the original plans for Sparta?"

"Indeed they are. Plans for all of the great cities, and several others, are stored here."

Kratos stared in admiration at the original plans for his home. Like the city itself, the design was crude, yet beautiful. But why would city plans be useful weapons? He thought to ask Athena, but suddenly it dawned on him. Plans and blueprints like this were the original designs for the cities, showing all the original foundations. And thus, any inherent weaknesses in the design. A skilled tactician wielding these designs in particular would know how to enter Sparta from the small water inlet from the river, bypassing the defenses entirely. True, a ship could not enter, but a battalion of good swimmers could. At first Kratos feared for Sparta's safety, but then realized that the other original blueprints could be used in the same fashion. Ithaca, Troy, Delphi... the possibilities were endless.

"Ah, I see you've figured it out. You are an intelligent man, Kratos."

Athena quickly snatched away the plans, replacing them on the shelf.

"However, using these plans for warfare is forbidden. But there are other things on these shelves that you may find interesting."

At first he felt slightly cheated. Showing him such things and then snatching them away. It was almost insulting. She led him through more rows of shelves, this time closer to the entrance. She selected a fairly-new looking scroll and offered it to him. He accepted it reluctantly. But as he unrolled it, and began reading the words, he became intrigued. 'A warrior of Sparta, changed by war and made servant to the gods...' he read to himself.

"This... this is my story."

"Stories, Kratos. _Stories_."

The goddess smiled and flourished her hands to the shelf. Several scrolls, whose outer design matched the one in his hands, lay stacked near the edge of the shelf with room to spare.

"And I believe they are only just beginning."

At first Kratos felt angry. She had written of him without his consent. For years, he had been known as the Ghost of Sparta, unable to escape the sheer horror on the faces of everyone he met.

"How did you write this?!"

Athena merely smiled at him.

"I have been watching you, Kratos. There is hardly a god or mortal that hasn't heard of you. I simply thought it prudent to immortalize your tale, just as that of Hercules and Perseus."

Kratos looked away from her, clutching the scroll tightly, wishing to burn it. But he could hear the change in her voice as she continued.

"I hope I've done nothing wrong. I wrote these volumes with the least bias I could; merely the facts."

She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You may read them if you like, and change what you see fit."

At first, Kratos merely clenched his fists, poised to rend the scroll in two. But as he looked down and read further, he could see that she spoke the truth. The events were accounted simply, without bravado or damnation. And for the first time since stepping upon Olympus, Kratos felt... un-insulted. Zeus and Dionysus could play their politics, but Athena had... honored him. It was true that his tale was one of bloodshed, horror, and guilt. But to be recorded among those of the gods, for all men to see for eons to come, was something else. Of course, he would see to it that it would be told correctly. Who better to write, or at least oversee, the stories of his life but he?

"I... will do that."

He replied lowly, turning back toward her. Though he could not speak it, he apologized with his eyes and his tone. Athena seemed to accept.

"Brilliant, then. I'll have them sent to your room, shall I? And I've not quite gotten to your latest adventure yet. I was hoping you could... fill in the blanks."

As painful as it would be to revisit Pathos Verdes's labyrinth in his mind, his pride overtook him.

"Of course. The conquest of the great labyrinth would make a thrilling tale. Particularly to fools seeking the power of Pandora's box."

Athena smiled.

"Indeed."

Kratos watched as she sat down on a nearby stone bench at the center of several joining shelves. She patted the space next to her, and Kratos joined her.

"You know Kratos, when I was young, I was a very lonely child. Aphrodite was worshiped by the masses for her beauty, Artemis praised by the huntsmen and warriors for her skill. I seemed to be the odd one out. A fairly unremarkable child."

Athena's face dropped with her tale, to which Kratos was very attentive.

"And as years went by, I found myself alone."

Kratos moved his hand to take hers, to ensure that she no longer felt alone.

"Ah, but oh-so free, I discovered."

Athena rose to her feet, leaving Kratos surprised.

"While the other gods and goddesses were tied down by their followers and obligations, I was able to wander the castle. I found the fastest routes between rooms and floors, I discovered some of the earliest structural foundations, even secrets. Eventually, I found this room."

Athena gestured with her hand as she spun on her heel.

"It was sparse when I discovered it. Histories of the formation of the world, the rule of the Titans, the Great War. Hardly enough to fill a library, but I soon discovered my love for reading and learning. I absorbed it all so quickly. Soon, even Father recognized me. For my wit, at first, but then for my sheer knowledge of things gone by, and the very ways of the world. Before I knew it, I had followers of my own and was dubbed the Goddess of Wisdom."

As Athena concluded her tale, Kratos found himself amused by her bravado. Athena had always been the reserved, cold, calculating sort. Quite impersonal. Hearing the story of her growth made Kratos feel as if he were watching it before him.

"Eventually, Father agreed to expand this room, allowing me to fill it with more and more knowledge. Each god at one time or another donated their stories and wisdom to this hall. Even things the mortals had discovered themselves are stored here."

As Athena locked eyes with Kratos for the first time since she had begun her story, she realized how overcome with pride she had been, and shook herself of it, sitting back down with him.

"The point of my story, Kratos, is that I was once alone. Just as you must feel now. But you can find solace. I found it in these shelves. I hope that you can as well."

* * *

Hours later, Kratos sat on his throne, thinking over Athena's words. His world had largely been taken from him. Being a god meant that there were no more personal struggles. No more seas to sail, or battlegrounds to attack. Perhaps it would serve him well, for some time at least, to learn about this world.

But what of his role in it? True enough, he was a god. But he was the god of war. When conquest drove their thoughts, warriors would reach out and pray to him. It was true that he did not care, but his hours of musings had led him to the question: why not? Was it not his mere price for immortality, to lead those below in the ways of war? It was all very troublesome, and it made Kratos anxious. He had been sitting for hours, considering ways to improve his chambers, until Athena's musings had caught up with him. It had put him in a dour mood.

As if on-cue, the doors of Kratos's hall swung open, permitting the hollow sounds of footsteps. With a flicker of will, Kratos brightened the torches at the entrance, revealing the massive form of Dionysus. Behind him came the glow of the lowering sun. It was just entering late afternoon, and the light stung at Kratos's eyes. He had been keeping his hall mostly in shadow.

"Hello there, Kratos. How have you been keeping?"

Dionysus's bellow filled the hall, but Kratos merely responding by sinking his cheek further into his fist, a scowl quickly forming.

"Well enough before you arrived."

The rotund pleasure god's smile never faded as he approached, his brown beard soggy with consumption.

"Oh come now, my boy! There's no use sulking about in your chambers for the rest of eternity. Get out and enjoy yourself!"

Dionysus began to stumble as he reached the steps to Kratos's throne. He rose, but not to help him. He meant to pass him and leave.

"Even if I chose to do so, there is nothing here for me."

No sooner could Kratos react than he felt the large hands of the wine god grip his shoulder, and fling him backward toward his throne. He reached for his blades, but remembered how he had removed them earlier. Even so, Dionysus's massive hand pressed his chest against the throne, pinning him.

"Now look here, boy."

Genuine anger filled the god's deep voice and eyes, both fringed with drunken savagery.

"I have been a good man to you. I welcomed you to the palace when no one else would, I offered you advice, alliance, and I helped put you in the good graces of the few gods that care to know you. I've worked _very_ hard to be _very_ kind to you, and I would appreciate some damn gratitude!"

At first Kratos could only scowl in response to the large god's anger. It had always been his way, even against an opponent such as this. But as Dionysus's anger began to ebb, and his breathing lighten, Kratos saw the truth in his rage. As the first man calmed, so did the second. Dionysus removed his hand from Kratos, and fell to sit on one of the steps.

The two sat there for some time. Until at last, Dionysus spoke.

"I apologize, Kratos. It was not my place."

The wine god's head sunk down between his knees. Normally Kratos would feel nothing but contempt for someone who had attacked him, much less behaved in such a manner. But at this moment, after hours wondering about his own existent, Kratos could only feel pity. And sorrow. He reached a hand out to the large god's shoulder.

"No. I apologize. It was not your place to help me at all, yet you did. You pushed me from my nest, the way a bird does to teach its young to fly. You showed me there is more to being a god than arrogance. I thank you."

Kratos joined the larger man on the steps, feeling very strange for what he had just said.

"I... I do not know what to do with my life. All I have known has been taken from me. And in its place is this strange world of gods, and allegiances, and..."

Dionysus's booming voice interrupted.

"I understand, Kratos."

He did not look at Kratos, but merely out into the clouds.

"I was born not necessarily knowing my divinity. I grew into a man knowing nothing of my purpose in this world. I traveled everywhere, wandering. Along the way I did... terrible things. Twice, I murdered an entire ships crew. I forced Theseus to leave his bride. I forced a queen to slaughter her own son in a fit of insanity. I truly knew not where I was going, as a man or as a god. But then I had a vision. A vision of death. Ampelos, a young satyr, was destined to die. At first I wished to warn him. Perhaps change his destiny. But I was restrained by the Sisters of Fate. They demanded that I allow him to die. For it is not the place of anyone to meddle with destiny. I brooded for days, weeks, even years. I was tortured with the guilt. Eventually I discovered his hubris, and one night found him boasting of his own superiority to the moon goddess Selene. Not since Nemesis, Nike, and Artemis have I seen such a vengeful woman. She had him gored by a bull. And I was helpless. Forced to do nothing but watch the boy die by his own vanity. I felt lost. I questioned my own existence. What was the point of being a god if I had about as much control over life as any mortal? I was exactly where you are now."

Dionysus at last gave Kratos a glance. He could only stare curiously in return.

"But you see, the Fates are not always unkind. Because of my patience, I was allowed to do what I wished with Ampelos's body. Mourn him in an appropriate way, I suppose. Sitting there, watching the blood drain from his body, I had an epiphany. I fashioned the dying satyr into a vine. I tended it, and cared for it, and spread its seed all around. Until finally, from that vine, I made the first cup of wine."

Kratos could only stare in disbelief, lost in thought on the meaning of the wine god's words.

"You see Kratos, this world is what you make of it. Neither of us would repeat the horrors of our pasts. And before I knew my place, I was a burden to everyone, including myself. But then, out of a hardship I had never experienced, I learned to care. Maybe even love. And I created something beautiful, that defined my life. If you must, my boy, think of your godhood as your own Ampelos. It is yours to do with what you please. You may allow it to rot, or bury it deep within you, or even... burn it to ashes. Or you could change it into something grand that you can be proud of. Something... well, something worth living an eternity for."

Slowly but surely, Kratos could feel the hard shell of his sadness and indecision cracking under the weight of Dionysus's words. It was true. All of it. It had only taken a ten-foot drunken man as hairy as a bear to make him face it. But one thing still puzzled him.

"You are a good man, Dionysus. But pray answer me one last question."

The large man sat up straight, looking at Kratos from beneath his unkempt, curling hair.

"Why do you do so much for one who has shown you so little care? Why me?"

Kratos could see the wine god begin to shake, and feared the worst. Would he weep? Was he so thoroughly drunk that he would burst? Both possibilities quickly vanished as the wine god threw his head back in a roar of thunderous laughter almost akin to that of Zeus.

"In truth, Kratos, I've always wanted you. I've watched you from my chambers for quite some time. Quite the busy bee, you've always been. Traveling, warring, plotting and killing. Never any time for fun! No drunken nights of debauchery, even with those whores that accompanied you on your journeys. Your heart was never in it. And that, my boy, is what kept you out of reach. And I had hoped that, perhaps, this new life would afford us the luxury of... friendship."

Now, it was Kratos's turn to chuckle. Such a silly thing, after such serious talk, he could not help it. It did not become a roar, but it was enough. He looked towards the setting sun somewhat... no, definitely... more at wine god unexpectedly rose from his seat beside Kratos.

"Well. I think I've been here long enough. And had just barely enough to drink. Perhaps I had best succumb to Morpheus's charms a bt early this evening."

The mention of the sleep god's name brought a small chuckle to Dionysus, even as he stumbled down the stairs and nearly lost his balance completely. Kratos was able to intervene, but only just. Even with godly strength, it was a chore to keep the large pleasure god on his feet.

"Apologies, my boy. My leg may as well be made of water, for all the good it will do me getting back to my chambers. Would you mind... er... helping me?"

The wine god smiled thinly, pleadingly. Kratos said nothing, but reached out to the statue of Ares. From the chest he retrieved Artemis's sword, glowing red with power. For the moment, it would make a fine crutch. He handed it to Dionysus, and it was accepted gratefully.

"Thank you, my boy. Would you be so kind as to accompany me to my chambers, as well?"

Kratos could only nod. And as strange as he felt for saying it (not that it had been the most agreeable day in his life), Kratos continued, leading the large pleasure god through the doorway into the hall.

"What are friends for?"


	9. Chapter IX

Chapter  
IX

The journey back to Dionysus's hall was long, slow, and tiring. Not only did Artemis's blade refuse to give purchase due to its godly design, the journey became increasingly frustrating when the pleasure god admitted to being lost. Only after a conjuring of his agalma, or spirit animal, the bull appeared to guide the way, could the pair find their path. After Dionysus was less-than-ceremoniously laid into his bed, Kratos began his journey back to his own quarters, Athena's blade over his shoulder.

As he traveled the halls, Kratos saw the light of the sun grow lower and lower in the sky. It had taken considerable time to escort the prince of pleasure home. But there was little else to do, he thought. Eventually the peace and solitude of the palace eased Kratos's mind, putting him at a more leisurely pace. And even as he reached the doors to his own hall, Kratos did not stop. The walk seemed to be exactly what he needed to clear his thoughts. There were no gods, but only a handful of servants wandering the hallways. The air was crisp, and the only sounds were the occasional breeze through the hall and the echo of his footsteps.

It was strange to think about. In Pandora's Temple, as with any other situation of battle, Kratos regarded silence ominously. He had become so used to doing so in his many years at war, it was a shock to realize how it so calmed him now. The thought of a stroll through the fading light that would not end in a scream or a battlecry was... reassuring. And to think it could happen here, on Mount Olympus! To think he would so quickly begin to consider this place home. He wondered briefly if Sparta had changed since he had been there last...

After a time, Kratos stopped to consider where he had brought himself. Only the barest bits of sunlight now permeated the palace, and he was sure that the moonlight would not be far behind. He read the inscription on the nearest doorway, and found himself before the hall of Hestia, the hearth goddess. Of course.

He swung Artemis's blade down from his shoulder, which had begun to tire of the weapon's weight and texture. The thought occurred to him that, since he was here in the goddess half of the palace, he may as well return it to her. Remembering what Athena had told him about the position of the opposing gods and goddesses, Kratos took the appropriate path that would lead him to the opposite direction of Apollo's room. True enough, the hour was growing late, but the evening's events had emboldened him.

Soon he had, unmistakeably, reached Artemis's chambers. The archway was high, with a bright glowing moon at the crux of it, currently waxing. The frame on either side of the double-doors resembled a great stag raised on its hind legs. As he reached forward to open the doors, he saw the shine from the massive hunting dogs carved into each of them. Their eyes reflected with some kind of strange gem. He briefly wondered their purpose, and pushed open the doors.

There was no echoing creak, groan, or grinding of stone upon stone as he had been expecting. Instead, he heard merely the rustling of leaves and the minute creak of a tree in the wind. He allowed his eyes to adjust and take in the room before stepping forward. It seemed as though he had stepped through a portal directly into a forest. Each wall was covered with vines, shrubs, and various trees that all seemed to be living, rather than carved into the stone.

Like the Grand Viewing Room, the moonlight glowed from the top center of the room, surrounding by a sky of the deepest blue. With the aid of the light, Kratos noted that the hall ahead of him was very short, like a foyer, ending in a wall of leaves and vegetation.  
Just as his eyes attuned to the scene, thus did his ears. There was a faint, whistling breeze from seemingly nowhere, rustling the various leaves and vines. And from somewhere he heard the distant gurgling of water, like a river or a waterfall. Could it be possible? The question only existed in his mind briefly. Very little was impossible here.

He approached the center of the room, hoping to find some sort of hall or doorway leading to other chambers, feeling the grass and soil crunch softly beneath his sandles. There seemed to be no exit from this room, but the way he had come. A ruse to ensnare the unworthy? Most-likely. Artemis was a goddess of virginity.

As he approached the opposite wall from the entrance, he noticed the wall move. Not just the leaves and vines, but the wall itself seemed to ripple in the breeze, and the sound of water grew stronger. He reached out a hand, and felt nothing solid. It was a wall of pure vine. A clever doorway.  
His first instinct was to use the blade and cut through it. Who knew how thick it would be, or what enchantments lay upon it. But he resisted, instead sheathing the sword through his belt and pushing his way through the hanging greenery.

With little difficulty he reached the other side. The moonlight was the same, as was the decor. Only this room was much larger, lending itself to a small field rather than a mid-forest grove. A tree line, real or imagined, seemed to encircle the room. The breeze was much stronger here, as was the sound of the water.

To his immediate right lay a grove of trees and brush. But to his far left he could see a gathering of four trees. Making his way across the grass, he could see a bed, lined with woven leaves for sheets, the trees making an effective, and literal, canopy. The trees themselves were lined and detailed, as if they had been twisted and shaped to grow in a curved fashion around the bed. And surrounding the base Kratos could see the purple petals of amaranth, which he could now smell in the breeze.

From behind him, in the direction of the grove, Kratos heard a faint sound of laughter. He stood his ground as the trees ruffled and parted, allowing three shapes to step through; two smaller and at either side of a larger one. As they stepped out from beneath the trees, he recognized them to be Artemis and a pair of large hunting dogs, similar to thse carved on her chamber doors.

Of course, Kratos also did not go unnoticed. The dogs' ears immediately leapt up and forward. They bared their teeth and he could feel as well as hear a deep growl. He sneered at them. They were but puppies compared to what he'd seen during Poseidon's challenge in the temple.  
"Stay your fangs" came Artemis's voice. The dogs ceased growling, but their ears remained alert. "So, you found me after all. I was beginning to wonder how long it would take." Artemis approached, her dogs trailing a short ways behind her. As she did so, Kratos noticed she wore a fine white gown... no, it was no gown. A blanket perhaps? But as she neared, he could see water shine on the bare, revealed skin of her calves and face. He then realized: she had been bathing. And the gown was a towel... seemingly of fine sheeps wool.

"I came to return your sword" Kratos announced. He unsheathed it slowly and held it in both hands as she came to a stop before him. "Hmm" came her reply. A curious and impressed sound. "You have certainly put it to good use. The spirit of combat has rejuvinated its edge." She approached, examining the blade as Kratos held it, running her fingers carefully along the edge. As he watched, Kratos noticed a small drop of blood fal from her finger. He then followed as she plced it in her mouth, sucking away the crimson liquid. It was only after she had finished did he realize that she had been watching him, watching her. Her eyes slitted and a corner of her mouth creeped up in an evil grin.

Lifting her chin, Artemis motioned over Kratos's shoulder. "Look there." Kratos turned, at first only his head but then his entire body. In the distance, at the seemingly illusiory treeline, stood a family of deer led by an immense stag. Kratos felt Artemis stand just behind him, pressing against him. "I have a proposition for you" she whispered. "Oh?" he grunted in reply. She pressed herself more firmyl against his back, lending the shape of her body to his skin, even through the wool. "Bring me the head of that stag, and you may watch me disrobe."

The idea coursed quickly and intensely through his mind. It would be simple with the sword. All he would need do is chase down the creature. He had seen Artemis's outline earlier in his chambers. It was enough to make his blood stir. But like a candle burning twice a bright, the thought died almost instantly.

"It is only a stag. Killing it serves no purpose. I refuse." Kratos spoke very simply, in a matter-of-fact fasion. He watched Artemis's grin turn downward, and her head nod over his soulder. "Good. Very good, Kratos." In a flash, he felt her hand move over hsi shoulder and around his neck. The point of a dagger touched his skin. "If you had chased that stag, you'd have been lost in the enchantment of my hall. And had you actually managd to kill it, I'd have hunted you down and killed you, just the same." She also spoke very matter-of-factly, with only the faintest trace of venom in her voice.

As quickly as it had come, the dagger was removed. Artemis began walking past Kratos, toward her bed. He noticed her bare arm tucking the blade back beneath the folds of her towel. "Thankfully you are not like Ares, or many other men I've met, for that matter. The thrill of the kill, the spectacle of a bared goddess... there's hardly a man alive that wouldnt find it maddening. And I know you are no eunich."

Kratos merely grunted in reply. While what she said was true, he was unthreatened. "I did not think an honorable hunter such as yourself would kill a sheep for its wool." Artemis turned back to him, only the barest flash of anger shone in her eyes. "If you are a good enough hunter, the sheep will give their wool willingly."

Thoughtfully, Artemis turned back toward him, speaking as she stepped. "You have honor. Willpower. Respect for nature. And a fine mind. Now all I need test is your skill in combat." She stopped before him, beyond arms reach. A fighting distance. "Here? Now?" Kratos asked warningly. She stared into his eyes, and he into hers. His muscled tensed, as did his grip on the sword. He could see the towel shifting ever so slightly.

Until after a moment, Artemis spoke. "No. Not here. But I have a place. A grand stadium where you'll face warriors and beasts to stunt your imagination." Kratos raised an eyebrow in honest curiosity. "Where?" he asked. She smiled and turned back toward her bed. "Hades, of course." Kratos's eyes fell. Damn. "Speak to him" she continued, "and then return here. I'm sure you'll have plenty to talk about."

As Kratos turned to leave, already brooding, he heard her voice call him back again. "Leave the sword with my hounds, if you please." He turned to see the two dogs, waiting patiently but with attentive ears. They did not trust him. But by their masters word, they did not show aggression. He held the sword in one hand and stuck its blade into the earth. He watched as the two dogs gripped the dull half in their teeth and began carrying it over to Artemis, who had only just slipped the wool past her shoulders when Kratos stepped from through the vines, the foyer, and back into the now-darkened halls of Olympus.

* * *

_Author's Note: Sorry I seem to have been slacking these past few weeks, folks. Things are coming down to the wire for me and I rarely have opportunity to sit in front of a computer anymore. But I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I wanted to extend it, but I found it short, sweet, and to the point. Also, you'll notice that my writing style has changed a bit. Sorry about that, but I know you'll get used to it. I'll try and change the previous chapters to reflect this style as well. _

_See you again soon! I hope._


	10. Chapter X

Chapter  
XI

Kratos' trek back to his hall was not quite as pleasant as his previous one. Artemis claims that Hades has a grand arena somewhere in the Underworld, where creatures yearned for combat. The idea was intriguing, but at the same time somewhat distasteful. Kratos had become a god! His days of conquest and combat were all-but behind him. There was undoubtedly a myriad of other ways he could entertain himself for the next millennium. But the old itch for battle still lay beneath his skin, down to his bones. He had been ready to slay those two hunting dogs, and he had almost leapt at the chance to hunt down a stag for Artemis. When compared with those feelings, life as a god had thus far been quite dull.

However, none of this could change the true issue: Hades. Kratos had slighted the god of the Underworld more than once in his past battles, not to mention climbing up the bone labyrinth to escape Styx when Ares had killed him. And even worse yet, those years ago when he had been forced to kill Persephone, Hades's wife, for destroying the World Pillar and nearly dropping all of existence down into Tartarus.

But he had been in the service of the gods, and it was they who had commanded her death. There was little that he could have done. And while she may 0once have been a fair maiden of the gods, she had become far too corrupted to live. And it had been Hades' influence that had done her in as well. Though somehow, Kratos did not believe Hades would respond to reason in that way.

These trifling thoughts carried Kratos quickly back to his chambers. Thankfully, his visage of Artemis's chambers had inspired him enough to devote his thoughts to other things. He remolded his throne to be deeper and taller to fit him more comfortably. He changed the arm rests to look like the heads and manes of Spartan war horses, matching the torches Athena had lined his hall with. Like the other halls, he had chosen to make his ceiling match the sky. His nights thus far had been slept out of exhaustion. His years at war and traveling the world had made him accustomed and attuned to the natural night; all of its sights and sounds. But the bed Athena had created for him had suited him well, so he merely changed the shape and color from rounded and blue to deep scarlet and square. Opening a wall behind his throne, he created a short hallway hidden by curtains and a separate room for his bed. It was time he began expanding.

* * *

Athena moved swiftly but gracefully down the hallway, stifling a yawn and instead savoring the fresh morning air. She carried a wide breakfast tray with a domed lid, both of the finest silver. She beckoned with her mind as she approached, and Kratos's doors opened. As the torches lit by her passing, she noticed several banners of red, gold, brown, and black lining the hall now. The archway leading to the bathing room had become much more detailed with clouds and spears, and had been pushed back toward the back of the room where the throne sat. The throne itself had also become more ornate, with war horses forming the arm rests. The statues of the minotaur and Aries had also disappeared. Apparently, he had done quite a lot of work the previous night. He might have been up for hours.

However Kratos, and the bed she had made for him, were nowhere to be found. She studied the walls for a moment, finally seeing a slight breeze blowing from behind the banner to the left of the chair. Stepping toward it, she found a hallway behind the banner. Stepping through, carrying the tray in one hand, she found the hallway led to a small bedroom. There was no ambient light in the room, save for a fireplace that occupied the far left corner. The fire-glow threw shadows across the room giving it a dark, but homely feel. To her right, she saw a grand square bed covered in what seemed to be animal furs. Kratos lay comfortably on his back, his sandals on the floor at the side of the bed.

She sat at the base of his bed, laying the tray down beside her. For the first time since he had been on Olympus, Kratos seemed to be resting peacefully. He seemed so tranquil; she almost didn't want to wake him. Rather, she could sit there for hours and just watch him sleep. But there were things to do on this day. She reached a hand out and shook his shoulder. "Wake up Kratos."

He stirred blearily for a moment, and blinked himself awake. He sat up, surprised to see her. "Athena! I… was not expecting you here." She smiled and raised her eyebrows. "I see that. You must have been quite busy yesterday changing your room around." He blinked the remainder of the sleep from his eyes. "Yes, I decided it was time to fit my chambers." There was a moment of silence, wherein she merely stared at him, and he at her. But his eyes fell to the silver serving tray. "What can I do for you this morning?" he finally asked.

She blinked herself, and suddenly remembered why she had come so early in the morning. "Oh yes. Father requests to speak with you this morning, and I thought I'd bring you some breakfast." She lifted the dome off of the tray. "Cooked eggs, ham, bread, and cooked potatoes." She could see that the smell had affected him, and with her renewed exposure, it had begun to affect her too. Thankfully she had eaten earlier. She laid the plate across his lap and waited as he began eating.

From the way he consumed his food, he must have been starving. Every muscle in his torso flexed as he seemed to shovel every bit down his throat. Or perhaps she had become overly perceptive of him… Regardless, there was little time to waste. She waited at his throne, admiring his work, while he dressed. His talents with the room were becoming quite proficient; perfect timing for the talk with Zeus. Within moments he was ready, and she led him down the halls to the elevator, bringing them upward this time.

As hey climbed, Kratos spoke. "Tell me, do you know anything of Hades?" The strange question caught her off-guard, and the mention of Lord Hades automatically put a crease of concern in her brow. He was not the most tasteful of gods. "Lord Hades has not come to Olympus in quite some time. His duties in the underworld keep him occupied, and he is…" She tried to think of something tasteful to say. Even though he was disliked by most of the pantheon, he was still her uncle. "He is very private." Kratos placed his elbow on his fist, and stroked his beard in thought. Why was he so curious? She remembered what had happened years ago, when he had been forced to kill Persephone. It was terrible business, but it had to be done. Perhaps he wanted to make amends? Curious.

Soon enough they reached the top of the elevator, breathing in the high, open air. It was fresh and pure. A chill covered her from the height of the mountain, but there was a comforting sensitivity in the air that existed whenever Zeus was nearby; the strange way you could feel someone when they were very very close, covered the area everywhere around her father. It was a fitting sense of omnipresence.

She led him through a set of ceiling-less hallways. They were carved directly out of the mountain, and covered in sigils. It was the beginning of her mother's garden, and fresh grape vines hung down over the tops of the walls. "Mother has taken quite a liking to these vines that Dionysus has crafted. She asked him to plant them across her a garden, and in return he would have a set place in the castle." Kratos grunted ponderously.

As they emerged from the labyrinthine garden, Athena saw her father speaking to Hermes in the middle of an open space overlooking the garden and off into the sky. "Tell him I'll not hear of it! Not on my mountain." Zeus's tone was clearly aggravated, and Athena was reluctant to approach him. Kratos had at last broken from this thoughts and realized what was happening. Athena watched Hermes's eyes dart over to them for half a moment, and Zeus turned his own gaze in their direction. The sight of his daughter softened his features immediately. He cleared his throat, finishing his message to Hermes. "And tell him I'd like to speak with him privately tonight." Hermes bowed to one knee, speaking "aye, my lord" before vanishing in a flash.

Zeus turned to face them at last. "Ah, daughter. I see you've brought the newest member of our pantheon." He smiled brightly, embracing Athena, before turning and trading grips with Kratos. "And how is Olympus treating you, my boy?" Kratos shrugged. "I've been finding my way here and there. I'm beginning to... enjoy it." A small smirk graced Kratos's lips, and Athena's heart skipped a beat. At last! Kratos was finally beginning to find a niche for himself here. Athena almost wanted to hug him, but fought the urge. Now was not the time.

"Excellent" Zeus began. "Now that you're making a home for yourself here, it is time you put some thought to the entitlements, accoutrements, and responsibilities of being a god." Athena's eyes brightened as she looked to Kratos, who seemed interested. "Now, the first thing is to establish a prayer well. All gods receive prayer from those who worship us, be they songs of praise or beggings for favor. Prayer wells allow you to see your worshipers directly from right here on Olympus, and will automatically attune to their words. It's something rather fantastic that Poseidon and I came up with. Haha." Zeus grinned to no one in particular, seeming to look back into the more glorious days of the past.

He blinked and returned his attention to Athena and Kratos. "Next, you should establish an area of dominion; a general gathering of cities over which you rule. Dominions are attained by convincing the mortals below to worship you. More followers means more power and the God of War, I'm sure you'll be happy with Sparta and several of its ownerships." Kratos's eyes brightened slightly at the mention of Sparta. He was either thrilled, or having second thoughts. Athena considered both possibilities. " Feel free to expand your interests" Zeus continued, "but be wary. I'll not have gods fighting one another for territory. Influencing and changing the tide of battle is one thing, my son, but I do not abide direct combat with other gods on my mountain."

Her father's face grew stern momentarily, but quickly reverted. Ares treachery still stained the minds and hearts of many a god. "Beyond that are the smaller things" Zeus continued. "For instance, agalma; the patron animal. These shall be your chosen vessels, or vassals, on the world below." Zeus leaned in to Kratos, as if sharing a secret. "It doesn't do well to show your true form amongst ordinary mortals. It does more harm than good, more often than not." Zeus chuckled, and Kratos joined him. Zeus's tales of merriment were well known, even in the mortal world.

But all-too-quickly, Hermes returned to the other end of the platform, clearing his throat. And she had so been enjoying Kratos and her father sharing time together. Her eyes lost a bit of light as Zeus straightened up. "My apologies, but I am very busy today. I'm sure Athena will be more than happy to discuss possibilities with you." He turned and kissed Athena's hand. "Daughter" he said cordially before turning and shaking Kratos's hand once more. "God of War. I shall see you both again in due time. Good day." With that, Zeus strode over to Hermes.

Athena turned back toward the garden, turning to make sure Kratos was following. He was indeed, staring into the sky above, bright with possibilities.

* * *

_Author's Note: Hello, folks. Sorry about the change in format, but my writing style is evolving on me. I hope you like it. I know this is another shorter chapter, but for what I've got planned, it felt the right place to stop. Enjoy! And don't forget to let me know how I'm doing. Always appreciated :)_


	11. Chapter XI

**Chapter**  
**XI**

On their way to the library, Kratos had finally come out of his stupor and begun expressing ideas. By the time they had reached the library bench, they were having a full conversation. She had initially suggested the horse for Kratos's agalma, but he had other ideas. "The ram. It is strong, powerful. It finds its place among the harshest peaks. They are small creatures that carry a mighty weight." Athena noted that rams were often lonely creatures, and extremely territorial for animals that did not eat meat. But she didn't press him. She was simply happy that he was thinking.

But he was also listening. Making a prayer well was not as simple as the other additions to godly chambers and it involved several steps, including a favor of Poseidon's. He took note of them and they moved on. "How do I answer prayers?" he asked. "And why are messages often so cryptic, if I can so directly deal with them?" Athena smiled. "Oh, Kratos. You have only just begun to tap into your godly powers. Hundreds of payers come to each god on each day. If we were to simply have conversations with everyone, we would have time for nothing else! The prayer well is a focus; a way to hear the most dire or prevalent wishes. Eventually, you will hear them without the well and be able to respond to them by influencing the very world below." Kratos stiffened. It was indeed a towering demand placed on a former mortal. But she was confident he would rise to the challenge.

"I'm so happy for you, Kratos. At last you are leaving the limits of mortality behind. All that is left is your nightmares and..." Athena had been so happy, she had utterly forgotten. Kratos again stiffened, and his eyes dropped to the ground. Her eyes went wide with concern and her skin pale with regret. "Forgive me, I had forgotten." Kratos sighed. "It is not your fault." He opened his fingers and examined his ashen white hands. "I will carry them with me forever. It has been ten years. But my nightmares have not plagued me so recently, as they have in the past. I think I am prepared to go on with them."

Athena looked on Kratos, frowning and nearly reduced to tears. She wished there was something she could do. Anything! "If only there were a way to convince Morpheus..." she said absently. Kratos looked to her. "Morpheus? He still lives?" Again, Athena's mind asserted itself. She should not have spoken of him. After what had happened several years ago, when Morpheus had conspired with Persephone to end the world by placing the gods in a solid sleep, he had been punished by the three brothers and been ruled as taboo. It was better if she did not raise his hopes. "No. Zeus utterly destroyed him. Rest is a weakness too great to be exploited." Kratos's face again looked downtrodden.

After a few moments, Kratos's hands closed and his face hardened. "Athena. Do the elevators travel to the Underworld?" The question surprised her, but she considered it quickly. Kratos had been forced to kill everyone in Elysium in order to thwart Persephone's plot, having been stripped of his curse & powers and placed there by her. Elysium was a small hovering plane between the earth and Hades's realm. Perhaps he wanted to go there. Or visit his wife and child. "It does."

She could have told him it was unwise to see them again. It would only make him more upset. But it was her place to educate him as a god, not as a man. Whether or not he could let his family go was his responsibility.

* * *

Kratos left Athena in the library. He had much to deliberate on, and she had appreciated that. She seemed to be very concerned about him. He wanted to tell her not to be, but could not. He had not dreamed of the curse in some time, and the mention of Morpheus's betrayal had only brought on more memories. He walked back to his chambers, deliberating. Should he bother with Hades at all? He would most surely be turned away. And he would prefer not to ask Athena's opinion.

But only just as he shut the doors behind him, he heard a mighty knock. Dionysus stepped through the doors, arms wide. "There you are, my boy. I've been scavenging the castle looking for you." Kratos noticed bits of meat caught in the pleasure god's beard, and smirked. "The dining hall, at least." Dionysus laughed. "Yes, well you wouldn't want me to starve, would you?" Kratos merely folded his arms. "Impossible." This drew another heavy laugh from Dionysus, but he quickly controlled himself. It appeared as though he had an agenda.

"Kratos, I wanted to thank you for your aid last night. I was a bit out of sorts. And what better way to celebrate a new comradeship than drink! And I think it's about time you had one with me, too." Dionysus folded his own arms and looked down at Kratos expectantly from atop his high, wide shoulders. He looked away for a moment, thinking. He truly was not in the mood for a drink, however it had been quite some time. And he had left Athena to deliberate on his problems with Hades and his nightmares. And he didn't care to socialize tonight.

Kratos was surprised by a sudden swipe from the pleasure god, and backed away. "Come now, my lad. What must I do to enjoy your company for an evening? Chain you like a dog?" Dionysus's good-natured grin did not falter, and Kratos relaxed. It would do to take one nights rest. "As long as it is the finest wine on Olympus."

At the words, dionysus clutched his chest and placed a palm to his forehead dramatically. "Oh my, whatever shall I do to please you? For I am a mere god of the common dreck, and could provide no beverage pleasures to a nubile god such as yourself." Dionysus smiled maliciously above slitted eyes.

Kratos snorted in inane amusement. "You are a fool." Dionysus stepped to the doors and pulled them open. "And so are you, if you think you'll last an hour on my private stores." Kratos's eyes widened as the pleasure god's grin became ever more devious. "We'll see about that" he challenged, following the wine lord's lead out of his chambers and through the castle.

* * *

Again, Athena prowled the corridors of the castle as night descended. She was finding these walks rather pleasant nowadays, though it was not lost on her their common destination. Basket in-hand, she approached the entrance to Kratos's hall. In her basket she carried the scrolls detailing Kratos's journey. He had said that he had wanted to look over them, and they had both forgotten when he had left the library. She had decided to come from a different direction tonight, in order to extend her walk. Her thoughts had been plaguing her lately.

Despite what she had said to herself, she did care about Kratos's health; physical, mental, and spiritual. She could not understand why. He was just a mortal she had rewarded with godhood. He had effectively saved their world many times over, he deserved a reward. It was as simple as that! But no matter how many times she had had these thoughts, she cold not accept them. The Goddess of Wisdom could not lie, even to herself.

"So" came a voice from the dark corridor. "Another lioness seeks to join the pride."

Athena's preoccupation with her thoughts left her slow to start. She took a cautionary step back as she saw the silver chest plate of her sister glinting in the moonlight. "Artemis" she said with equal measures courtesy and distaste. "What business have you here?"

The Goddess of the Hunt stepped away from the wall toward her sister. "I have my reasons. I seek the God of War's answer to an offer I have given him." Artemis smirked. "And what business could you have with Kratos so late at night, my dear sister?"

Artemis snaked forward, and her words dripped with venom. Athena recalled childhood tortures and subconsciously clutched the basket tighter. "I have business with the God of War as a gatherer of knowledge, not some common harlot."

Her sister's eyes visibly flashed with rage and contempt. This gave her a sense of triumph, if only a fleeting one. Artemis quickly recovered. "Oh, really?" she stepped forward again. "I've been watching you, sister. I've seen the way you look at him. Ten years ago he was your favorite little mortal. Now you've taken your little boy-toy and made him real."

Artemis's steps were growing ever-closer, and soon Athena found no choice but to retreat backward. Her sister's words stung more fiercely than she could possibly have known. "When he was mortal you made up excuses to speak to him, and watched him endlessly. And even when he slew your own brother, what did you do? You made him a god. To satisfy your own..." Artemis eyes Athena up and down "curiosities."

Athena found herself pinned to the wall by her sister's words. Her face felt hot, and she had to strain to hold back tears, the basket burning into her hand now. "Consider this, sister. Perhaps I do want Kratos as a man. But I am, at the very least, honest about it." With an evil smirk and a courteous bow, Artemis began to step away. "Goodnight, sister dear."

Within moments, Artemis disappeared into the darkness and was gone.

* * *

The world blurred before Kratos's eyes as he lifted the immense mug to his face once again. Dionysus had not been lying, even as he blustered, about the quality of his private stores. The texture was of silk, but the taste was powerful and pungent. The grapes may have waited an eternity, for all that Kratos could tell, and may have been plucked from the very darkness of the skies above them.

The two had wandered into the great hall, a massive barrel carried over Dionysus's shoulder. The large man continually insisted that they invite several servant girls, but Kratos showed no interest. There were far too many things cluttering even his inebriated mind. He set his cup on the great marble table and looked out into the night sky. His mind followed the shooting stars that wandered the blackness while the constellations lay still.

Thoughts of Artemis and Hades's arena joined the tempest of images of Ares and flashes of his wife and daughter. The thoughts and memories swirled in his mind, mingling with the pain, and the rage that overtook it. Just as they had done so many times before when he had indulged in the drink. But only now, they were blurred somewhat.

At first he assumed it was merely the drink. While it had never shared his burden before, he had been taken aback by the Wine God's stores. However, it was strange.

The pouring of more wine into his glass awakened him from his thoughts. Dionysus looked down at him in the silence, pouring the ambrosian liquid directly from the cask over his shoulder. His normally gregarious face was oddly solemn. "What troubles you?"

Kratos could only sigh and imbibe further. After a few silent moments, he began his tale. "After I helped you last night, I visited Artemis's chambers to return her sword." Dionysus looked up from his glass. "Oh?" Kratos wiped the liquid remnants from his lips and told of his encounter with the Goddess of the Hunt. Her bathing, her challenge, and her offer.

As he finished, he noticed Dionysus return to his own drink, which had strangely gone untouched. "That's quite a tale, my boy. You're lucky to be alive, man or god. I commend you! Haha!" Dionysus clinked his glass with Kratos's and swallowed all that he had ignored. Kratos merely sipped. "And an invitation to Hades's arena; that is... quite an honor" he said with slightly less enthusiasm. "I would imagine a warrior such as yourself would jump at the chance for endless combat with the hordes of the undead. And the company of the perfect 'man's woman.'"

Kratos merely grunted, and sipped. "Something vexes you still" said the Wine God, refilling his mug for the nth time. "Hmm" Kratos grunted. "Athena mentioned Morpheus. How he may be able to cure my..." Kratos trailed off, blinking. "Cure me."

Dyionsus downed a sipful, tasting it and swilling his mug around. "Well, if your problems are dream-related, he would be the man to talk to." Kratos waited in silence as his companion downed another mouthful. "However, you would know better than anyone what he's done. The three brothers banished and punished him proportionate to his crime. He has little power left, but it wouldn't hurt to see him. Any hope is better than none at all."

Kratos took another drink and sighed, laying his head back and leaning against the edge of the table. Would it be worth it to get his hopes up? He truly did not know. Nor did he care to think about it tonight.

"And Athena, you say. Haha." Dionysus chuckled through his mug. Kratos peered at him through her peripheral vision. "What of Athena?" Dionysus continued to chuckle in the moonlit darkness. "A blind man could see what was going on between the two of you." Kratos sat up. "There is nothing between us. She is merely being kind. It was she who made me a god, it is merely her post to service me."

Dionysus emptied the last of the cask into his glass. "Blast. Oh well... And don't be a fool, boy. Athena is as cold and distant as an icy glacier. Beautiful, yes. But inaccessible." The Pleasure God pointed a finger to Kratos. "Except to you. How often does she wait for you to wake? By Hades, how often does she put you to bed? Haha!"

Kratos stood and smirked. "You take leave of your senses! It is impossible." Dionysus swished and swallowed the last of his wine, standing up. "Ah, the best is always the bottom. First of all, nothing is impossible, only highly unlikely. Second of all, I've known the child her whole life. Never has she shown anyone such favor. Do not take her attention lightly."

Kratos merely stood there, leaning over the table and grinning at his companion, until he was forced to look away. "No, no. You're a fool. There's no way she could possibly..." Dionysus interrupted "Mirror your feelings?" Kratos felt himself go red in the face, the heating causing him to sweat. "Watch your words, my friend" he said quietly. "Oh come now, Kratos. You think I wish you ill? YOU are the fool here." Dionysus's great hand collided with Kratos's back, pushing him into the next table. Kratos could only smirk. "You wish to fight me, Wine God?" The large man let loose a great booming laugh. "Wipe my wine from your face and have at thee, God of War!"

Kratos did just that, and leaped over the table, tackling the larger man. Dionysus continued to laugh, rolling the pair of them over so that his bulk lay on top. He pinned Kratos's wrists. "Come now, boy! I thought Spartans didn't surrender?" With much effort, Kratos managed to get his knees to his check, and pushed. With a grunt of effort, he managed to lift the heavy god with his legs and drop him to the side, freeing himself. He rolled to one side as the Wine God's impact shook the tables.

With a roar, Kratos charged forward and jumped on to Dionysus's back, wrapping his arms around his neck. He tightened his grip as Dionysus rose to his feet, lifting him only just off the ground. "Do you yield, friend?" Kratos roared. Dionysus merely choked out a bout of laughter, gripped Kratos's arms, and fell backwards. Again, the impact shook the dining hall, and flattened Kratos. Every bit of air left his lungs, and he lay struggling for breath beneath his burly combatant. With what little strength remained in his legs, he managed to lock his heels with Dionysus's hips as he stood up again. Though dizzy, he held on for dear life, still red-faced and grinning.

Dionysus fell to his knees, giving Kratos purchase on the ground once again. "Do you yield?" he repeated. Dionysus's great hands came back in answer, gripping Kratos by his broad shoulders and pulling him over his head. Off-balance, Kratos could not defend as Dionysus slipped his hands under his arms and connected at the back of his head. The hearty laughter returned as Kratos struggled.

"You know, Kratos" the Wine God began, "I feel as though I must admit something." Kratos grunted, attempting to break away. Kratos grinned and chuckled at the friendly banter. "What is that?"

Dionysus laughed quietly. "I've watched you for the longest time. A fine Spartan and warrior. But all those years you spent drinking and whoring, trying to rid yourself of your memories, you were always beyond my grasp. You were the one man I couldn't have, because you never accepted the spirit of mirth but now... now I have you! I have you right where I want you! Hahaha! HAHAHAHAHA!"

Grinning with the wine and a clever plot, Kratos thrust himself beneath the hefty, braying Wine God and again used the strength of his legs to him off the ground. He charged toward the out-facing wall of the dining hall, hoping the collision would dislodge his friend and give him a chance to retaliate. However the ornate marble shattered on impact, and the two laughing, drunken combatants, were sent careening over the edge of Mount Olympus, into the night.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Here you go, folks! Sorry it's taken so long, but college has been kicking my ass, among various other things. I promised _**Nentone**_ I would get this out by the weekend, so here it is! Granted It's about 8am, and I haven't slept at all. I skipped sleep to get this out, so I hope you all like it! The last scene inspired by AC/DC's "Spoilin for a Fight" haha._

_I'd also like to take this opportunity to talk about "God of War: Ascension," which comes out this Tuesday (for me). I only saw the superbowl trailer last night, and for those of you who haven't seen it, check it out. That three-minute video is EXACTLY the sort of thing I'm trying to do with this story; explore Kratos as a real man with emotion and character. And I personally can't wait to play the game on release day! Enjoy, fellow gamers! I'll be spending my Spring Break on it, and I hope everyone else has a great one too! :)_

_-WJ_


	12. Chapter XII

Chapter

XII

As the clouds bellowed past them in freefall, the two gods continued to trade blows. Dionysus grappled while Kratos used his fists. He could hear the thunderous laughter of the wine god even above the roaring winds, and the joyous muffling created by his consumption. As he opened his eyes and found himself looking skyward, he found his vision suddenly clear of the clouds. At first he thought to himself how ominous and powerful Mount Olympus really looked, and how beautiful the night sky was. However, this did not last.

Aided by the cold air rushing around him, Kratos shook himself of the wine's influence and realized where he was.

Falling.

Kratos had spent a lifetime enduring pain in all shapes and sizes. The crash to the earth was a powerful, all-encompassing pain that ocurred within the blink of an eye. All of his senses lay blank for several moments. Slowly, they came back to him. The sight of the cloudy, star-strewn sky above him mingled with the leaves of a tree. The sounds of crunching soil and rock. The smell of wheat in a fresh wind. The souring taste of the wine left between his teeth. And the weight of the drunken god lying atop him.

After allowing a moment for his strength to return, Kratos heaved his sparring partner from atop him, and sat up. They had created quite a crater in the middle of a meadow. A meadow that, somehow, seemed familiar. Dionysus chuckled as he rose from the dirt. "I haven't done that in some time. Falling to earth is so much more entertaining than simply stepping through the gate, or riding winged chariot."

Kratos surveyed their surroundings. A barren field bathed in moonlight. Sparse trees dotted the landscape, as well as several small homes of stone and wood. It was...

A look to the North confirmed his suspicions. The stone walls, the signal fires, the short towers.

Sparta.

"Who are you, who falls from the sky?" Again, Kratos was forced to turn, startled by the voice. A man stood behind him in the shadow of the tree, carrying a blade. He wore Spartan armor and fell almost a head shorter than Kratos. His hair was short and his features smooth. Eyes determined, ready for battle. But his sword wavered, and his armor was stained dark with blood. And from the horrid tears in the armor, it must have been his own.

"We are the gods, boy." At last Dionysus had risen from the crater. The soldier lowered his weapon slightly. "Lord Dionysus. I beg your forgiveness. But why come you here, and with what company?" The wine god stepped forward and clasped Kratos's shoulder. "You stand in the presence of the new God of War, boy. The slayer of Ares and a damn-fine drinking companion!" The wine god's laugh was loud, but short. The boy's eyes fell. "So it is true. Our lord Ares is dead. There really is no hope for Sparta." The young soldier leaned back against the tree, sword and eyes lowered.

After a moment of dull silence, Dionysus grunted, thumping Kratos on the back lightly. Kratos's mind quickly grasped the importance of the situation. This was a clear moment to prove himself as the new God of War. He cleared his throat and stepped forward, trying to recall his days as a general.

"What has befallen the city?" The soldier merely sighed. "What do you care, Ghost of Sparta? Not only did you murder our god and your own family, you abandoned your men and left the city unprotected, bereft of its finest general, for ten years." There was less venom in his comment, more hopelessness. But it struck Kratos all the same. After leading his army on a quest of Ares's that had ended in the destruction of all he loved, he had abandoned his men. It had been the oracle's curse and his disappearance that had earned him his infamous moniker.

Rage flared within Kratos. How dare this boy accuse him of being the villain? However his mind, now all-but-cleared of the drink, worked rationally. It was beneath him to squabble when the city was at stake.

He approached the soldier and placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "Ares was a monster hardly worthy of worship. I realized that when it was his will that carried me into that temple. But he is dead, and we are alive. True Spartans never let their backs hit the ground! It is our sworn duty to defend this city, be it with our dying breath or not. And like it or not, I outrank you, soldier. Now on your feet!" With a slight shrug of effort, the young man stood up. "Very well. I will lead you to the beast. If I am to die it shall be on my feet and in combat."

For several minutes the strange trio walked in silence. The wounded young soldier leading the mortal-made-god and the ambivalent Dionysus, fresh from the Olympian wine stores. Kratos could see the pain with which the boy walked, but did not help him. It was part of Spartan honor. While the horrors of war fringed his thoughts, the idea of once again being a part of a force for the glory of that which he cared about made him feel at-home nonetheless.

"What is it that plagues the city?" Kratos asked as the city walls began to peek out over one of the hills. "A sphinx. A horrible creature. Savagery matched only by its wit. I was the only returning soldier to escape the onslaught. None are allowed in or out of Sparta by any means lest they solve the sphinx's riddles." Kratos looked back to Dionysus, who seemed very entertained by the whole situation, but offered no advice.

As they reached the top of the hill, revealing the valley leading to one of the lower entrances to the city, Kratos took in the scene. It was a familiar one. Yards upon yards of blood-soaked earth. The blood of at least one hundred Spartan soldiers returning home from battle. Armor and bits of flesh dotted the landscape. Kratos felt a harsh twinge of guilt, but ignored it. Battle holds no place for such emotions. But his blood boiled with the anticipation of his first battle since Ares.

As they approached the end of the bloodshed, Kratos noted something strange. The blood stopped, unnaturally cleanly, in a straight line yards from the wall. The soldier did not approach, but stood aside and allowed Kratos to do so. As he stepped over the line on to bare earth, a roar echoed throughout the valley sounding lion-like, but somehow reptilian.

From a hole in the air itself, a strange golden masked appeared, surrounded by a mane of wild black hair that seemed to know no pull to the earth. The face was solemn, as if frozen in great pain; eyes closed in a furious grimace. "Any who dare enter the cursed city of Sparta must answer my riddles three" came the voice that would accompany the roar. "Who would risk their life?"

Kratos stepped forward. "I am Kratos of Sparta. The God of War. And I demand that you leave Sparta at once!" The creature laughed and spoke slowly, its alien voice burrowing into Kratos's mind. "I answer to no god, Ghost of Sparta. I am the engine of chance, the champion of mysteries. You will answer my riddles, or you will die." Kratos looked back to Dionysus, who mrely raised his brows and lower lip in a grin of mock-seriousness. Kratos returned his gaze to the Sphinx. "Very well. Ask your questions."

The mask shifted position slightly, sending strange vibrations through the air.

"What has an eye, but does not see

the terror it puts within thee?

What howls but never speaks

Rolling over valleys low,

and the highest mountain peaks?"

Kratos only needed a moment. "A storm." The air around the mask shifted again, steadily. "Correct" it said simply. "Speak my name, and I am gone. I only come when no one calls. What am I?"

Kratos thought, looking into the cold, empty eyes of the mask. It twitched slightly now, back and forth. And in the shifting air around it, Kratos thought he could make out shapes. Seeking to clear his mind, he closed his eyes. Servants come when they are called. But what leaves when called? And only appears when not asked for? Trouble, perhaps? No.

"Silence" came Kratos's answer. The mask once again stirred and growled its hideous growl. The air surged and Kratos felt a powerful gust, but the mask did not move, save for a flicker of motion across its solid face. Was it a mask? "Very well. My final riddle. It cannot be seen, cannot be felt. Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt. It lies behind stars and under hills, and empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after. Ends life, kills laughter. What is it?"

Kratos's brows creased in thought. His heart sank slightly. Such a complex riddle. He looked up to the night sky, the moon shining brightly. He could see the stars. But only Helios could know what lay behind them. Cannot be heard, seen, smelt, or touched. Perhaps he could taste it? Doubtful. Empty holes and under hills made no sense. Comes first, follows after. Something all-encompassing, constant. Cyclical.

As Kratos looked again at the stars, he saw lights burning atop the walls of Sparta. And in the light cast by the flames, he could see people, citizen, warriors, watching him. From here he could not see if they were hopeful or resentful. Their gaze weighed on him, and the twitching of the mask was becoming nearly frantic. "Choose your answer, God of War!"

Kratos looked once more at the sky, desperate to find some clue. But as his eyes fell again upon the assembled Spartans, he saw something he had not seen before. There was a young boy on his father's shoulders. A child. Kratos's mind began to turn more quickly. Ends life, kills laughter. He thought of the children in Sparta playing in the sunshine, and of his own childhood. His brother being carried away in the grip of some enormous beast, and then... darkness.

Kratos pushed the stabbing pain of the memories aside. "The answer is Darkness!" The mask rose higher into the air, and once again a horrid screech echoed throughout the valley. "Darkness is what comes for you, God of War!" Before he could react, an invisible force smashed into his side, sending him several yards back. He landed harmlessly, after the fall from Olympus. But the creature was upon him before he could stand. The veil around its body was now gone, revealing the enormous, deformed body of a lion, with scales amidst the fur leading to a pair of reptilian wings.

As the creature lunged, Kratos quickly retrieved a shield from the ruins of the Spartan battalion, using it to protect himself as one of the Sphinx's claws came crashing down upon him. The blow was lighter than he had expected, but he remained focused. Forcing back the beast, he was able to regain his footing. In his haste, he had nearly reached for Athena's Blades. He had forgotten that he had taken them off o Olympus. Old habits surely died hard, but he would not allow his lack of arms to be his downfall. "Show your true face, beast! Show your true power!"

At his command, the mask began to break. No, not break. Split! The pained eyes of the mask split sideways, revealing glowing red snake eyes. The taught cheeks and upper jaw split away into toothy mandibles, and the lower jaw fell, exposing the gaping black maw of the beast. "You have more power now than you once had, Kratos. Use it!" Dionysus's words were strong and certain, which was what caught Kratos off-guard. But even as he looked at the pair, who had retreated to a safe distance, the pleasure god grinned.

With a surge of adrenaline, Kratos rushed forward, using the shield to push the Sphinx onto its back. Making a giant leap into the air, he came down with the shield onto the beast's chest, and used the edge of the weapon to attempt to cave its head in. However, he had not accounted for the tail, which reached from under the creature and once again swatted him away. "Here!" came the young soldier's voice, and Kratos looked to see a spear, thrown sideways. Catching it in his outstretched hand, he had but a second to account for its weight before the creature had regained its footing.

Unable to ready the spear for throwing as the beast charged, Kratos leaped to the side, using the broad side of the blade to give the Sphinx extra momentum in the wrong direction. The creature faltered, and with a mighty downward swing, Kratos used the blade to hack the lion tail from the Sphinx's body. The creature screamed in its alien voice and jerked its body around into a defensive stance, even as blood hemorrhaged from its backside. Kratos in-turn took the long-practiced Spartan defense stance, spear pointed over the edge of the raised shield. The two stared at each other for a long moment, slowly turning a circle around one another. The creature's eyes and wings flitted nervously about, though its toothy jaw showed no signs of weariness.

Finally, the beast lunged; it's claws outstretched, intending grab Kratos and rend him to pieces. However, the Sparta had been ready. Spinning on his heel, Kratos released and re-caught the spear in a slashing grip, and ducked. As the beast flew over him, he used his remaining momentum to cleave the creature's clawed hands from its body. The creature tumbled painfully to the earth, with no front paws to steady its fall. Bleeding now from three places, the Sphinx screeched its last and sluggishly took flight. "All of Sparta will pay for your arrogance!"

Kratos saw the citizens atop the walls panic, scream, and disperse as the creature quickly rose up the wall on its healthy wings. Dropping his heavy shield, Kratos again gripped the spear in a throwing stance, and took careful aim. Holding his breath and tensing his muscles like a spring, Kratos launched the spear with a mighty roar. The weapon whistled through the air at unbelievable speed, and impaled the flying creature flat against the wall of the city, like an insect crushed by a elephant. The Sphinx screeched and squirmed, even as the spear had completely penetrated it's spine and chest, until finally its remaining limbs went limp against the stone wall, blood soaking both stone and fur alike, the spear stuck firmly in the wall.

All was silent for a moment, save for Kratos' labored breathing. While he had thrown the spear with more power than he ever had, the suddenness of the battle had drained him after so much time at peace. The people who had returned to the wall lay silent. Kratos felt the mantle of shame on him, and turned to bid Dionysus that they return to Olympus.

But as he turned, he heard a lone voice from over the wall. "The Sphinx is dead! Raise the gate!" And to his word, the heavy steel gates raised from the earth. The young soldier walked eagerly toward his home, while Kratos felt only alienation. "Shall we go, Dionysus?" The enormous wine god merely pulled at his bristly beard. "I think we can afford to stay a while. We're gods, after all." Reluctantly, Kratos followed the young soldier through the gate, with Dionysus at his heels. For his protection or assurance that Kratos would enter, the new god of war was unsure.

They entered the city to absolute silence. Though people lined the streets and filled the alleyways, none stirred or spoke. They simply stared at the two Olympians walking through the gate. At first Kratos hoped to find faces of those he once knew, two lifetimes ago now. But the crushing silence kept his eyes forward on the tattered bits of the soldier's back armor. The young man wandered to the arms of a larger man, presumably his father. He also bore scars of glorious battle. Though the embrace with his child seemed to be the extent of his strength. Kratos and Dionysus merely waited, but not for long.

A booming voice sound from further down the main street. "So, Kratos has returned." The crowd parted ways to allow the King of Sparta to step through. His only armor was a helmet that served as a crown, with flared red feathers. His robes were white with fine gold trim and golden bracers and shin-guards decorated his limbs. It was not the same king he had served years ago.

"We thank you for destroying the Sphinx that has plagued us for so long. But we are wary of allowing you into our midst." Like Zeus, the king pandered to his subjects. But even the Spartan King paled in comparison. "You are known by many names. General Kratos, the Ghost of Sparta," the King paced as he went on. "The Slayer of Ares, and now his successor, the new God of War." Murmers spread through the crowd, and Kratos's fists tightened. He wanted nothing more to scream and denounce Ares as the monster he was. But he knew that would do no good. "So what name would you have us know you by? Man? God? Murderer? Savior?"

The king's words were solemn, and the crowd was silent. He at last felt the weight of the sins he had committed against his homeland bear down upon him. And it was more than the once-noble Spartan could bear. He spoke, looking out over the crowd.

"I was once a proud general, leading Sparta's armies to conquest and glory across the land. My campaign led me to the barbarian horde. I was foolish, and commanded my men against them. They died loyal to me, to Sparta. But I was only to realize my folly when it was too late. As I lay at the mercy of the barbarian king, I summoned Ares and pledged my soul to him in return for victory."

The weight carried on Kratos seemed to lighten with every word. Finding a pedestal, Kratos leaped atop it and continued his tale. "Ares granted me the power of the gods that day, in exchange for my soul. And with that power, I led Sparta to many more victories still. But at a terrible price. I slaughtered innocent people for no crime higher than displeasing Ares. I tainted not only my own hands, but those of my Spartan brothers, with the blood of the innocent at the command of a madman."

The very thought of Ares caused his jaw to clench and the muscles of his face to tighten. His rage would never subside. Rage that, since Ares's death, could only be turned inward. "But it was I who followed his command, and I who led my brothers to such atrocities. Atrocities that ended in the death of..." The pain and memories of Kratos's final deed to Ares returned to him in perfect clarity, as it had in his endless nightmares. He looked down at his stained-white hands. "Ended in the death of my family." It was startling, to see so few among the crowd react to his tale. Had his story been spread so far among so many? If the world could not forget, how could he ever hope to?

"It was Ares's will that had brought me there, and it was then that I abandoned my Spartan brothers. For that, I am sorry. But my path was that of vengeance, and redemption. I would no longer cast my burden upon my city. And after ten long years, I have killed Ares. I have slain the monster that bid me kill my own family. Ares cared not for the glory of Sparta, but for his own glory. In his final moments, he threatened all Olympus. And I was through the will of Olympus that I slayed him.

But no longer do I do the bidding of those who stand behind me. No longer am I bound to serve anyone. I am once again my own man, to do as I see fit with the powers granted me as the God of War. And as I see it, my duties lie with Sparta, for her glory and her prosperity. If you will have me. I ask not that you treat me with the fear and reverence that Ares commanded. But with the respect and honor that you once showed me as your general. I ask your forgiveness, so that I may once again lead Sparta to fortune and glory. If you will have me."

Kratos stepped down from his pedestal, and looked upon the king, as well as the crowd. All stood in silence. Many eyes avoided his, others stood dumbfounded. Some sneered in hatred while others blinked in wonder. The king's arms lay across his chest in consideration. "We will deliberate on your plea, Ghost of Sparta. For now, leave our city in peace." The king turned on his heel, waking back from whence he came, the crowd swallowing him once again. Kratos's eyes fell, and a whisper from Dionysus reached his ears. "Let's go, my boy." The crowd parted as Kratos led the wine god back through the city gates, and on to the still-bloody scene of the Sphinx's challenge.

They stood alone for several moments, the light breeze in the waning moonlight the only other sound. "Well," began Dionysus. "Bloody good show you put on in there. They may take you back yet. Though this probably the only time I've ever seen a god ask the forgiveness of a mortal! Haha! And it's an experience I assure you I shall not forget." Dionysus's ill-timed good humor stung at Kratos. "It was no show, old man. It was not on of your silly tragedies. It was..." The anger quickly drained from Kratos, replaced with the weariness he had become all-too familiar with. "It was my life."

After several seconds, Dionysus's great, comforting hand came down on Kratos's shoulder. "Well, your life makes for a dandy of a speech. You should write it down someday." Kratos scoffed. "That is exactly what Athena bids me do." Dionysus chuckled. "Ah, yes, for her library. Curious little thing, my niece. But come, even Olympians need sleep, and for all we know, she may be waiting for you." Kratos sighed, attmepting to push his worries to a corner of his mind. "How are we to return to Olympus?" The pleasure god chuckled. "My dear boy, we already have."

Kratos blinked, puzzled, and was suddenly greeted with the sight of the Grand Hall of Olympus, repaired since they had left. The suddenness disoriented him, and for a moment his balance seemed to leave him. Dionysus laid another, steadying hand on his shoulders. "Easy now boy, easy. You didn't think we'd be climbing all the way back up, did you? Such is the power of an experienced Olympian."

Kratos politely brushed away Dionysus's hand even as he laughed. His melancholy reached even beyond their instant transmission back to Olympus. "I thank you for the... entertaining evening, Dionysus. But my bed calls to me." "Of course, of course, my boy! And thank you! It has been a night I shan't forget for some time. Hahaha. Goodnight. May the brothers of Morpheus treat you well."

Kratos shuddered at the thought of the nightmares that awaited him in his chambers, and trudged onward into the dark halls of Olympus.

* * *

Athena's tears had come and gone as she sat behind the entrance to Kratos's hall. Her sister's cruel words had held the sharp sting of truth to them, and there was no denying it. Though there was one thing that Artemis had been mistaken about. Athena did not want Kratos purely for sex. While she would have thought less of herself if that was the case, Athena's worries were even grander. She feared that she may even... love the fallen Spartan. So many pieces of her screamed in agony at the realization, but a small part of her felt vindicated. A part she could feel growing with each passing hour.

After realizing how long she had been sitting there, and how late it must be with the moon so faint in the sky, Athena came to the conclusion that Kratos who most definitely be asleep by now, and it would be easier to present him with the scrolls in the morning. Yes, it would be so much simpler.

Her muscles were overjoyed to at last be taking some focus from her ailing mind as she stood and walked in the more direct route to her own room. The fewer that found her this night, the better.

But as she stepped around the corner, her eyes went wide with shock and fear. For there stood Kratos, apparently on his way to his room. "Kratos! I... I thought you would be asleep at this hour." Kratos's mood was low and weary. "I have had a long night with Lord Dionysus." Athena's surprise had led her to gloss over the implications of Kratos's words. "Ah, I see. Well, I had planned on brnging you these scrolls so that you may look them over, and make your corrections to the tale as you see fit. And I was wondering if perhaps we could speak about something of pressing import..." Kratos raised one bleach-white hand. "Athena, I appreciate you bringing me the scrolls, but could our talk not wait for the morning?"

Athena's face and heart froze, but she kept her composure with every ounce of willpower she could muster. "Yes, of course. Always time tomorrow." She cordially handed him the scrolls, and he gratefully accepted them. They said their goodnight's and crossed paths. And Athena waited until the heavy clink of Krato's closing hall doors to allow her mask to crack, streaking with tears and burning with pain as she hurried her pace back to her own hall.

* * *

**_AN: You didn't really think I'd write a God of War story with no action whatsoever, did you? Bah! This is only the first of several battles to come for Kratos.  
_****_I decided to use the Sphinx as a reference to the tale of Oedipus, which I read innumerable times in High School. I'm so sick of it now. Plus, I wanted to see what I could do with the "Creature Feature" aspect of the GoW series.  
Once again I do aplogize for the slowness of my updates, but I hope this satisfies you all for now. For those on the Western Hemisphere, I hope you all had a happy Mother's Day. I'll see you all again soon!  
-WJ_**


	13. Chapter XIII

Chapter  
XIII

Kratos's sleep was once again ravaged by his nightmares. Blood and betrayal flowed in a great tangible miasma before his mind's eye. Guilt clawed at his brain with great black talons as he watched his fellow Spartans, who had followed him loyally into battle, being slain endlessly before him. Their piling corpses created the pyre that burned the Oracle's temple surrounding him. The blades flew with a mind of their own, cold and cruel, into the hearts of his wife and child. Kratos woke many times from sleep even in his godly bed, yet each time the nightmare resumed, repeated.

After several attempts at renewed sleep, Kratos could bear it no longer, he stood from his bed, pacing in his room before emerging into the space of his hall. His arms worked around restlessly, swinging and stretching as they did. The pain and guilt boiling within him would not settle, and Kratos could think of no way to relieve himself.

After many frustrating minutes, Kratos could hold back to longer, and punched the archway leading to his bath. The stone cracked and broke. While it left his godly skin no worse for the wear, he felt a certain amount of relief from rending the stone. Using his power, he repaired the archway and attacked again, crushing more of his architecture. But as this went on, he felt it far too simple. This time, after repairing his arch, he began to craft a person, a soldier, out of stone from the floor. At first it was merely a shadow of an enemy soldier, which he dispatched quickly with his bare hands. But as the hours passed, his designs grew in detail, into horrendous beastly creatures, and he had retrieved his blades to destroy them. The anguish and guilt that had burned his insides turned into anger, and hatred. It drove Kratos to combat, and it was there that he found some small relief.

Time passed quickly as Kratos continued his therapeutic cycle of creation and destruction. His grief and anger burned away like kindling. As the final beast fell, Kratos looked upon the sky-mirroring ceiling. Dawn was mere moments away. And while his mind was weary, his body knew no limits. He had climbed for days to reach Pandora's temple and various other tasks throughout the years. His reluctance to dream galvanized his will. He would rest the following night.

As the stony remains of his creations sank back into the floor that had spawned them, Kratos heard a knock at the great doors. "Enter" he said.

One of the great doors swung open slightly, and a young servant appeared. "I beg your pardon at this early hour, Lord Kratos. But I have a gift for you."

Kratos raised a brow quizzically, saying nothing as the servant retrieved and carried a large golden urn into the hall. The load was obviously far more than the servant could carry alone, but he managed to place it rather gently merely few from Kratos, kneeling as he did so. "A gift from Lord Poseidon."

Kratos stepped forward. "I have done Poseidon no favors as of late. What gift is this?"

The servant bowed deeper. "Begging your pardon again, my lord. This is water from the great prayer well. Each lord and lady has a bit of this water in their chambers to connect to their mortal worshipers. And Lord Poseidon did not say, but I recall that he was very grateful for your slaying of the Sea Hydra."

The pieces suddenly connected in Kratos's troubled mind. He nodded. "Very well. Send my thanks to the god of the sea. Begone." The servant rose slowly and left.

As the doors closed again, Kratos hefted the urn to the far side of his hall, opposite the bathing room. With a gesture, he raised a large pool from the stone and poured the contents of the urn into it with little effort, thinking. If he wished for the respect of Sparta, he would need to be a true leader as he had been all those years ago. But being a god carried other burdens. While he had easily killed the sphinx beyond Sparta's gate, he could feel a change as he entered. On his way back to his room, he had picked his emotions apart. It was not simply a feeling of guilt and pain that had weighed him down. Beneath the eyes of so many who could simply not trust him, Kratos felt something he had never felt before. Or at least, had never been unaccustomed to feeling: mortal.

From the moment he had been made a god, Kratos could feel a sort of aura. A tiny sense of raw power that had nothing to do with his years of Spartan training. Using his godly strength to kill the sphinx had made it more apparent, and the steps beyond the gate had felt like walking into a snow storm after a warm fire. If he was to lead the Spartans to victory as best he could, they would need to believe in him. He theorized this, and made a mental note to ask Athena or Dionysus later, but it seemed a simple enough idea. And the best way to gain the trust of the Spartans would be to answer their prayers.

He shaped the pool to reflect the liquid accordingly, running his finger across the surface lightly, and placed the urn down again. And in almost the same instant, the surface of the water began to ripple. As he watched, the surface of the pool changed from a reflection of the ceiling's rising sun to the inside of a house. A Spartan house.

Sturdy, immaculate furniture littered the room surrounding a straw bed. In the bed, in the shadow of the receding darkness, lay the form of a boy. No, not a boy. The soldier he had met earlier on the hillside; the wounded one who had led him to the sphinx. He lay there wrapped in bandages, unable to move from the bed.

"Are you there?" came the soldier's voice. To Kratos the sound seemed to come from within the hall, but he knew better. Though the water had not shifted, he knew that the payer had been directed into his mind.

"I am." He responded simply. "Can you hear me?" He felt foolish in asking, but speaking the words would be a great deal easier than trying to hold a conversation in his own mind, and he was unsure if it would work. Apparently, it had.

"Yes," the soldier replied. He was silent for a moment, and Kratos watched him anxiously through the pool. "I... I wanted to see. If you really were a god, at first. But being that you are... I wish to know."

Again, the soldier was silent, and it tormented Kratos. "Know what?" he asked.

"My uncle," the soldier began," was a soldier under your command against the barbarians, all those years ago. He had been wounded gravely, losing his leg. Ares had seen fit to burn the wound closed when he had granted you power. Though he could no longer fight, and barely walk, he still spoke of you. He spoke of how bravely and assuredly you led your men into battle, even against horrific odds."

Kratos's stomach clenched. He had been foolish that day. He had not dispatched a scout before the battle, and his arrogance had cost him dearly. But he remained silent as the soldier continued his prayer.

"My uncle would have us admire you for the general that you were. But I cannot help but feel that the battle with the barbarians may yet be an omen to things to come. You said that you wished us to respect you as we had when you were a general. But I want to know if that same respect with lead us down that same path? I want to know if you have changed since that day."

Kratos needed no thought over the matter. He had changed after that day. In more ways than one. With each passing night, his insides had twisted over every new nightmare that came with being an emissary of Ares. But he knew that the soldier's worries lay elsewhere.

"I have changed. In so many ways. After Ares's betrayal, I could do naught but run. My vengeance had blinded me to the mistakes of my past. But now Ares is dead. My sole purpose lies in battle. And is Sparta. While it pains me to admit it, as a general, every man was merely an asset. A tool to be used against an enemy I could only guess at. But as a god, I am forced to watch the battles. Men are no longer tools, but souls crying out. The heat of battle no longer blinds me to all but my own needs. I swear to you, I will be better. I will not lead you astray. I will give you a god to have faith in."

The soldier lay there silently for many moments before speaking. "Even though my uncle was maimed and disgraced, unable to battle for his remaining years, he still spoke highly of you. That you were a man to be trusted. And so, you have my trust, God of War."

Kratos breathed a sigh of relief.

"Though, my wounds are still fresh," the soldier continued. "As mush as it pains me, I must rest and hope that Asclepius does his work. Thank you."

The boy settled more deeply into the bed, and the waters of Kratos's prayer well shook lightly and cleared, once again casting a reflection of the sky-lit ceiling. Kratos thought silently for a moment, staring into the mystical water. And as he did so, a flame began to burn through it him. It filled his chest, and each limb, down to every nerve. Kratos set his jaw, and walked briskly out of his hall, and through the castle to the elevator. He gripped the heavy lever and pulled it as far as it would go, and the great stone-and-chain system began to descend.

The fire within Kratos was not one of anger, or of pain, as he had been so accustomed to over the past ten years. The flame was one of victory, of pride. It was a feeling he had not had since before he had pledged himself to Ares all those years ago. It had been so long that it felt almost alien.

But the soldier's words had stirred Kratos's warrior blood, and he had allowed his sense of triumph to carry him on. "This will be a day of progress" he said to himself. Since he had arrived on Mount Olympus and been granted his godhood, Kratos had done nothing. He had wallowed in his own self-pity, seemingly without purpose.

But now he had purpose. He had drive. This day would be the first day of the rest of his existence. An existence he would devote to becoming the honorable man he had once been, and a proper god of war to those who needed him most in the world below.

But no man could be called a true leader unless he could stand his ground in combat. Since his battle with Ares over the city of Athens, Kratos's only battles had been in his nightmares. This, he intended to change. He needed training, practice, and a true threat to drive him on. To that end, he would follow Artemis's advice and use the knowledge Athena had given him to go to the Underworld, and seek the arena there.

Kratos would visit Hades, the god of the dead.

A fierce blue light glowed from beneath the stone underfoot, and Kratos clenched, ready for battle. The blue light exploded and clouded his vision. And when it was gone, there was only darkness.

* * *

_A/N: A short and sweet chapter this time ;)_

_Coming up next: Death & War! The Climactic Meeting of Kratos and Hades! Stay tuned, True Believers!_

_-WJ_


	14. Chapter XIV

Chapter  
XIV

He sat patiently on his throne, waiting. The large room around him was completely empty, made of scorched stone in great blocks. While the only sound within the room was the low crackling of flame within the wall-length sconces, his head was screaming. Literally. While the gods high above on Olympus could hear the prayers of the living, Hades's mind was constantly flooded with the wails and screams of his charges: the souls of the dead. And it was music to his ears.

After the Great Titan War, Hades and his brothers had decided to divide the earth as they saw fit. Zeus claimed the sky for himself, and Poseidon chose the seas. But neither of them gave any thought to the responsibility inherent when calling oneself a god. Life and Death are the realms of the immortals. While his brothers had taken the world of the living, Hades was left with the world of the dead. Zeus and Poseidon believed themselves better than he; higher, laying claim to the world in the light and underhandedly cursing him with the world in the darkness.

The fools.

Every soul in the world above was held there by the simple threads of the Fates. With the barest scrap of effort, their souls would be sent, frightened and screaming, into his domain. While his brothers and their ilk held title to the mortals' faith and allegiance, and Thanatos their lives, he is master of their souls. In the end, they would all fall to him. Feed him. And in time, he would be great enough to topple his brother's foolish mountain.

Hades returned from his revelry as he felt a disturbance in his realm. The Hyperion Gate, connecting his realm to the mountain above, stirred. At last. He twitched in his seat like an excited child. The flames against the walls of his hall burned more fiercely with their lord's change in temperament. The improved lighting revealed the scarlet curtains covering the doorways at either side of his throne, shaped in bone and brimstone.

With an effort, he lowered the flames to the barest embers as the ancient doors to his hall slid open with a heavy grinding. But beneath the sound of the doors lay the almost silent sounds of the curtains to either side of his throne parting and flapping with the entrance of his personal guard. While his burning helmet would be invisible to Kratos, Hades had spent most of his life in the dark. He needed no light to watch the fight before him.

Kratos had been a little disoriented by the Gate. The all-but total darkness beyond the doors would make him wary, but the silence of the Fire Satyrs' approach would leave him vulnerable. And so it did, but not vulnerable enough. The first satyr's dual-bladed staff sang through the air at his throat, but he leaned backward, drawing the blades Athena had crafted for him. They glowed with golden-blue light, revealing the six satyrs, who then burst into brilliant flame as they attacked.

Hades had formed the satyrs' bodies out of clay. Armed with weapons of both beast and man, he had given them the souls of dead warriors seared of any weakness or emotion by the fires of Tartarus. And the souls at once hardened and burned the clay, making it glow with fiery light. While Hades had done this for most of his servants, these six satyrs were made from the souls of the finest warriors gathered since the Great War.

The second satyr twirled his staff in an arc over his shoulders. Kratos parried with several loud scrapes, and removed the satyr's head. The soul within exploded from the neck wound with a mighty flash and burned the creature to black ash. But Kratos had faced these foes before, so the flash did not deter him. He raised his blades to shield his eyes, allowing the third satyr to trip him with the crook of its staff. But rather than losing his footing, Kratos rolled backward.

Hades looked on with great interest, sitting back with his scarred fingers tented.

Before he had even stood, his blade flew through the air to loop through the third satyr's curled horn. He pulled, but the satyr counterbalanced and held his stance with a smoky snarl. The first satyr hooked his staff across the chain, drove the other end into the ground, and leaned his weight to unbalance the once-great Spartan. However, it seemed that Kratos had come to the Underworld looking for combat. He leaped to one side, using his weight and the force to angle the chain and pull. The tug-of-war ended with the third satyr beheaded.

The first satyr gestured with his staff, and the remaining warriors attacked. The fourth drove straight down, the fifth across, and the sixth interlocking with the others. Rather than fighting, Kratos flung his blades in the air and hoisted himself up. Once he had gripped the ceiling, he flung one blade at the commanding satyr, impaling it. As the body burned, he whipped it like a morning star into the other three. While the fifth and sixth satyrs leaped from its path, the slower fourth satyr was mangled by the impact. Kratos then dropped from the ceiling, impaling both of the unbalanced satyrs with his blades as he fell. The two satyrs burned to dust, and Kratos returned to a readied battle stance. Wonderful.

Hades stood from his throne, once again allowing the flames to burn brightly, and clapped. Kratos raised his blade defensively, and the lord of the Underworld could not help but smile beneath his helm. "Well done, Kratos. Well done." The hearty claps echoed, almost alien, in the demented hall. Hades took his seat once more, but Kratos did not lower his weapons, nor address his host. "I knew I would see you in my realm again soon, Kratos. And I knew you would not fail to make an entrance."

The new god of war slowly placed the blades upon his back. "You knew I would come." It was not a question. Surely by now Kratos had refused to attribute anything involving the gods to mere coincidence. Hades took his seat again and rested his arms on the throne.

"War and Death go hand-in-hand, Kratos. My underworld is filled to the brim with fallen Spartans, and those who have fallen by their hands. It only seems fitting that we be... on good terms." Hades merely smiled as Kratos stood before him, defiant yet unwilling to meet his eyes. "So why don't you tell me why you have come? I'm afraid I haven't entertained guests in some time, but you would do me that courtesy." Hades's smile spread into a wolfish grin as he spoke, while Kratos's defiant sneer only sharpened.

"You know very..." Kratos paused to take a deep breath. "I was told that you had created an arena."

Hades leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "And the once-noble Spartan seeks combat. How entertaining." Kratos tried to show nothing, merely clenching his fists tightly. "I suppose you would want access to my army of the dead by virtue of hospitality. You would be wrong. We are now quite far from the frivolity of my brother's mountain. I placate him by keeping that Hyperion Gate in place."

At last, Kratos looked him in the eyes. "I had hoped we could put aside our history, and begin anew as equals."

Hades eyebrows flew over his scarred face. Shocked into silence. However, his composure quickly crumbled into a low, gravelly chuckle. The chuckle quickly grew into a thunderous laugh, a dark reflection of his brother's. He could see Kratos's skin grow red even through the ash.

After several seconds, the Lord of the Underworld regained his stony calm. "No, Kratos. You and I will always have business to settle. You took my wife from me."  
"I sacrificed my child to stop a madwoman." Kratos barked.

Hades once again sat thoughtfully back in his throne. "Yes, you did. You sacrificed your daughter, once again..." Hades watched as Kratos twitched, "... in order to stop my wife from dropping everything into oblivion."

The pair sat in silence for several moments, Hades looking ponderously at the flames licking the walls while Kratos looked down a the stone floor.

"We will never be finished, Kratos. But you may make use of my arena. If you answer me one question."

Kratos thrust out his jaw, setting his feet.

"My wife and the rogue titan set out to destroy the the world above because they believed it too sick, to twisted and weak, to survive. A world filled with the simpering, fragile, petty, weak-willed mortals can do naught but destroy itself. And my brothers above bathe themselves in their adoration and worship, doing nothing while pretending to make the world theirs. Is such a world fit to survive?"

Kratos's eyes narrowed and fists clenched. "No need to answer now" Hades continued. "Think about it, as you hack your way through waves of the undead, honing your skills to lead your Spartans. Now begone. The arena awaits you tomorrow, God of War."

Kratos turned on his heel and stormed back through the enormous hall doors, which slid closed with his exit. Hades could feel the Hyperion Gate activate, and stood from his throne, satisfied. The scarlet curtains parted for him as he stepped out on to his balcony overlooking his domain. The sharp dark stone of his castle stretched below him. Flames and red miasma stretched as far as his godly vision could see, the stark deep blue of the River Styx wandering back and forth. Mountains of red stone scarred the skies. But high above, the world of man lay suspended above. And for a moment, Hades could almost see the dark wings of his beloved soaring across the skies, seeking escape.

The god of he underworld's hands curled into claws, and he clutched at the burned, calloused skin of his chest. And with a bloody effort of will, Hades strangled the beat of his heart, just as scarred worn as the rest of him, until it returned to stillness.

Kratos would not escape judgment for his crimes. Soon, he thought. Soon.


	15. Chapter XV

Chapter  
IV

Kratos paced back and forth in the elevator as it passed through the Hyperion Gate and further up the castle, furious. Not at the monster below, but the fool within. How could he have gone to Hades with such foolish notions? The god of the Underworld and he would never see eye-to-eye. This much was clear. While Hades had indeed given him permission to use the arena, it was proof that no matter how far Kratos traveled, his gruesome past would never leave him. Fury writhed within him like a wild animal.

As he returned to his own level of the castle, Kratos had reached a decision. His past would not control him. He would not allow it. He would seek Morpheus and be rid of his nightmares forever. By any means.

He stalked through the castle toward his hall, accepting a glass of wine from a passing servant but dismissing all others. A young woman stood before his doors as he arrived. Rather than the whimsical, simplistic white robe of the servants, she stood in much more adventurous attire. Leather braced her arms and legs while steel and fur adorned her chest, leaving her belly open. Her hair was cut daringly short, and her eyes and mouth were set with purpose, duty. A longbow and quiver of arrows also adorned her back. One of Artemis's women, no-doubt.

He stopped before her, and her gaze only shifted from the opposite side of the hall as he did. She fell dutifully to one knee, placing her fist on the ground. "My lord Kratos" she said. A trained soldier. Definitely of Artemis's brood. Impressive.

But this was not the time for pleasantries. Kratos gestured with his hand. "Rise and speak quickly, child."

She rose, and sneered. "I am no_ child_. I am Aerim of Themiscyra, and personal handmaiden to Lady Artemis. You would do well to remember that,_ Spartan_." The heat rose again in Kratos's chest, but he remained focused on his purpose. "She has sent me with a message. She asks that you join her in her chambers this evening, before sunset. She has matters to discuss with you."

Kratos stepped forward, opening the doors of his hall with a thought. "I have business elsewhere today. Tell her I will see her as my duties allow." He stepped past her, down the hallway to his room.

The amazon snarled in response. "You may tell her yourself. You will either appear, and accompany us, or refuse her offer like a coward." Kratos wheeled on her, temper flaring, to face a readied arrow. Aerim's sneer settled, and she fired an arrow deftly into the ground at Kratos's feet. "Bring your weapons" she said simply, and left, closing the doors of his hall behind her.

Kratos blustered, but calmed himself. He would need his focus. Crossing his hall and stepping into his room, he retrieved his blades, fastening them to his back. The chains, like old allies, wrapped calmly around his forearms. He would need to commission Hephaestus to craft a set of armor for him.

As he stepped back through his hall to the doorway, he regarded the arrow. Solid wood, fine feathering, and a sharp tip made from good stone. He plucked the arrow from the floor of the hall, fixing the hole and placing the arrow beneath his belt. It would remind him of the... invitation.

Closing the doors behind him, Kratos stalked down the hallways of the castle. The midday sun glowed brightly overhead, and the servants remained lively. His purpose must have shown on his face, for they gave him no waylay. He reached Dionysus's hall quickly and stepped through the doors with little effort. This room, like that of Artemis, was also covered with vegetation. Grapevines and various bushes created the entrance-and hallways. Statues of the satyr Ampelos watched over the main hall, only just emerging from the grapevines.

As he approached, Kratos realized that the main hall was an enormous theatre, with steps from all sides of the room leading down to the stage at the bottom center. But the glorious sight was negated by what he could see playing out upon that stage. Dionysus, covered only by a purple sheet, was flirting heavily with a woman. His deep chuckling and her light giggling mixed as the sheets tossed and turned. Kratos sighed and approached warily, an annoyed sneer on his face.

As he reached the lower steps, he cleared his throat audibly. The shifting of the fine silk sheet slowed, and the hairy head and torso of the wine god appeared. Atop his enormous form lay a slender young faun, clutching her master to hide her voluptuous shame. "Ah, Kratos! Good to see you after last night. Come to see a show, have you?" Dionysus's cheeks puffed and his teeth shone with a fierce grin.

Kratos took another step downward. "I am in no mood for such... entertainment. I must speak with you."

The forms disappeared beneath the silk once again, and the chorus continued. "For once, god of war, I am otherwise occupied. I would say 'give me a few minutes,' but in this case I merely bid you good day, haha." The faun giggled and moaned joyously.

"Where is Morpheus?" Kratos demanded. The god of pleasure remained indulgent. Finally, Kratos could hold back no more. Seizing the sheet in both hands, Kratos ripped the cover from the two lovers. The faun straddled Dionysus's manhood, mercifully concealing it. Her eyes grew wide as her body lay bared to the world, and he covered herself with her arms. Dionysus sat up, red-faced and clearly angered. "Kratos, really! If you wish to participate, you would do well to tell me beforehand." The faun's face grew red, and the fur on her head curled just as her horns did.

"Tell me where Morpheus has been banished to, and I will leave you to your deeds." Dionysus glared at Kratos from atop his conquest, and sighed, raising his hand. Kratos placed a corner of the sheet between the wine god's fingers. From beneath the cloth, the two lovers untangled. The faun's furred hocks flashed as she ran into one of the hallways connected to the stage level.

Dionysus emerged from the sheet, covering his shame. "Now what's this all about?"

Kratos stepped forward. "I will see Morpheus. Today. If I am to live my life as a god, I refused to remain tied to a mortal curse."

Dionysus sighed. "There is a reason he was banished, you know. He is taboo. None are to see him. He is no longer privileged with knowledge of the world."

"I will take the risk" Kratos hissed.

Dionysus eyed Kratos, but tented his fingers. "He is here, on the mountain. Or rather, _in_ the mountain. He is sealed within the labyrinth of tunnels, far away from anything that lives or breathes. And cursed to never rest, never sleep, even in world of complete darkness. I can only imagine what a wretch he must be by now."

"Show me," Kratos demanded.

"I cannot," Dionysus replied. "It is forbidden for us to visit him; he must be given no knowledge of what lies beyond his tomb. You, Zeus may pardon. But I am so rarely on his lighter side... I will have my agalma guide you there and back." With a gesture, the ghostly form of a bull appeared beside Kratos, casting a slight pink glow. Kratos nodded his thanks. "Be careful, Kratos. Morpheus is forever cursed and trapped. There is little you can threaten him with."

Without a word, Kratos left the chambers of the god of wine and pleasure. While new concern for the situation grew, his purpose never wavered. He stared into the empty eyes of the bull, and so it began to lead.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the late update guys, had a lot going on these past few months. But rest assured, I have not forgotten my goals for this story, and I will see them realized! Taking a break from Athena's arc for a bit, pushing Kratos deeper down the path I have set for him ;)_  
_Thanks for reading! And keeping up!_


	16. Chapter XVI

Chapter  
XVI

The bull agalma of Dionysus led swiftly for a beast of its size. It led Kratos to old, empty parts of the castle that had obviously not seen habitation for some time. No signs were posted, and no doorways marked. Empty room beget empty room, each seeming to echo a purpose they had once served. Enormous rooms meant to house feasting tables, bedrooms with no beds, and armories devoid of weapons and noticeably bereft of fighting spirit. A chill crawled through Kratos as he felt the ghosts of the castle's past, wandering in the cobwebs and dust.

They navigated the levels by stairway until the sun gave them no reprieve, and only the agalma's soft pink glow shone to guide him. The hallways had been slowly losing their grandeur, but now they could resemble only tunnels. The archways had melted into the ceiling, and the tiles were swallowed by stone. Kratos felt less a god, and more a plunderer of ancient tombs.

But Kratos held-fast to his purpose. He would be rid of his nightmares once and for all. He could not live a life eternal, haunted by a grief and pain that scant few gods could understand. He could not lead Sparta with the memories of his past exploits in the back of his mind. And he could not think further on Athena with Lysandra in his thoughts.

Grief stung his every step. _She is dead_, he thought to himself. _She is dead and gone forever_. His last encounter with Calliope, and Ares's final cruel trick had branded it harshly in his mind that he could never change his past. His only hope lay in his future. And with such bright possibilities, Kratos would not be defeated now, when he had come so far and suffered for so long.

After what seemed like ages, the agalma came to a halt. It stopped before a wall and turned to beckon Kratos with it's empty eyes. He approached the wall, scanning it with his fingers. It seemed as though the tunnel had simply ended. But after a few moments, the pink glow showed Kratos a groove in the stone. It was the shape of a lightning bolt surrounded by a circle, similar to the one that opened the door to the library. Kratos traced the indentation, before pressing it.

The symbol glowed dully, and produced no sound as the stone slid in all directions, rejoining the other rock and revealing the way forward. The bull sat on its haunches, waiting at the doorway as Kratos stepped through. At first he was hesitant, as the room seemed completely dark without the agalma's glow. But his eyes quickly adjusted. Stepping forward, up a steep stone, he saw a strange glow come from the ceiling. It was dull and green, like a plant found in a deep cave. It gave no sense of warmth or welcome, and it illuminated very little. But it illuminated enough.

Directly below the strange plant was a stone spearing up from the floor. Kratos approached the stone from atop his own. On all other sides, stone was surrounded by a pit filled with darkness that the dark-light did not penetrate.

As his eyes adjusted further, Kratos could see the outline of a man against the stone. His features looked gaunt and emaciated, and a heavy mop of dark hair covered much of the torso. Skinny, lifeless hands stood chained palm-up against the stone. At first Kratos feared the worst. Could Morpheus be dead? But as he stepped closer, he could hear the barest sound of strangled breathing.

"Who's there?" came a raspy voice. The tangle of limbs and darkness shifted. "Are you another apparition sent to torment me?"

Kratos stepped forward, holding his palms out in a non-threatening way. "I have not come to..."

"I WANT YOU OUT!" Morpheus's scream echoed in the deceptively large chamber. "You have taken everything from me!" Morpheus began to weep, and the writhing mass of his ruined body settled. "Please. Please leave me my mind."

Kratos kept his distance. "I am no figment, Morpheus. And I mean you no harm."

"If you are no figment, tell me something I could not know!" His voice echoed in the emptiness of the cave again, angry and half-crazed.

"How are you to know what I say is true, if you do not know it already?" Kratos commented.  
"BECAUSE!" Morpheus screamed. "Because if I know it, a figment like you could just use it against me. So tell me something I don't know! Tell me something about the world! Anything!"

Kratos stood there, confounded before a madman. "I am Kratos of Sparta. I have killed Ares, and have claimed his throne as the god of war."

Morpheus was silent. The cave seemed to thrum, as if the emptiness itself was a living thing. But slowly, Kratos heard it. Laughing. Morpheus's dry, raspy chuckle echoed from the walls like a twisted, demonic instrument. "By the gods. The Ghost of Sparta, visiting me? Zeus was never so clever in his cruelty." The twisted lunatic giggled on. "You must be real. Only a true Spartan could show such audacity."

Kratos breathed heatedly, but kept his composure. "I ask a favor of you."

The cave one again erupted in dusty, sickening laughter. "A... a f-f-favor?! The man who destroyed m-my life's work and im-p-p-prisoned me here, comes to ask a favor?!" The body shook weakly against the stone.

Kratos merely held his ground as the cackling continued. After several moments, silence returned to the cave.

"Are you still there?" Morpheus asked,almost frightened.

"I am" Kratos replied.

"Oh good. For a moment there I thought I'd gone mad."

Kratos had held an angry sneer, but could no longer hold back his pity. "What in the name of Olympus has been done to you?"

Morpheus hacked a cough into the air, cutting the silence like an axe. "Well, first, Zeus took my wings." Kratos saw a strangled fluttering behind Morpheus's back, and smelled the faint stench of feathers. "Ripped them from my body. But just the ends. He left the bones connecting to my back intact. So that they could scrape against this stone forever." Kratos heard a faint grinding, that he could only recognize as bone against rock.

"And then," Morpheus continued, "He took my power away. My power to influence sleep and walk among dreams. Even my own. I am cursed to never again wander the plains of my brothers; to never sleep again. Then he chained me up in this dank hole, I know not where. To never receive visitors. And to sweeten the pot..." Morpheus leaned forward, stretching painfully against his bonds. Kratos could see the dim shine from the god's eyeballs in the dark-light, and the ragged flesh surrounding them. "...He took away my eyelids. So that I could not escape the prison he had fashioned for me, even in my thoughts. Every sound, every change in the light, becomes a nightmare. A waking nightmare for the god without sleep."

Kratos stood there, shocked. He had never heard of such a cruel punishment, not since Kronos was commanded to walk the Desert of Lost Souls on hand and knee, with Pandora's Temple chained to his back, for all eternity. Morpheus had betrayed the gods, and nearly let the world drop into Tartarus. But he could not help feeling sorry for him. "You know who I am. You must know what I want."  
"Ah, yes" Morpheus began. "You who was commanded to serve the gods to be forgiven your terrible sins." Morpheus twisted his frail body so that his head lay on his shoulder. "You say you killed Ares and took his place. Is that not reward enough? To walk in the halls of Olympus and call it your home?" He chuckled dryly. "You must be the most ungrateful mortal I've ever seen."

"I was tricked!" Kratos bellowed unexpectedly. But he took a deep breath and controlled himself. "Being forgiven by others is not the same as letting go. What you say is a gift can be nothing more than a curse for me! I may live a thousand years and grow no older, but the memories, and the nightmares, will remain just as stark and painful as ever. I am a man frozen in my past, cursed to bear the icy chill of my sins for a god's lifetime."

Kratos looked into the eyes of the once-noble god of dreams, and fell to one knee. "Is there nothing you can do?"

Morpheus hung in his prison limply, looking down at Kratos with empty eyes. "I am trapped here forever. Even if these chains, forged in Tartarus, could be broken, I would never find my way from this place. Zeus has taken my power, my dreams, and my freedom. But there is one thing he cannot take from me."

Kratos straightened with the tiny glimmer of hope.

"He cannot take my brothers from me. For Phobetor, Phantasus, and Ikelos have done no wrong. No longer can I see the world of man, so no longer can I lead them in creating man's dreams. In my absence, they have worked to their own designs."

Kratos remained tense, folding his hand into a fist on the ground.

"Though it drains my soul away, I can still hear them; still speak to them. And I think it is in this way that I could aid you, Kratos. I do not think they would forsake their eldest brother one last wish."

Kratos rose to is feet. "So you will do it?"

Morpheus merely smiled. "No."

Kratos's eyes burned and muscles tensed. "What do you mean?"

Morpheus's sleepless eyes brightened and his mouth stretched into a sick smile. "I mean no, I will not grant a favor to the man who destroyed me."

Kratos rose to his feet, ready and wanting to strangle the life from the chained man before him. But his savage desires quickly waned. There was no hope now. And destroying Morpheus would grant him no relief. Clenching his teeth and bowing his head, he turned to leave.

"Wait, Kratos! I mean..."

Kratos turned back to face Morpheus. For a moment, he thought he could hear desperation in his voice.

"I may be bound and weak, but I am still an Olympian. To earn my favor, I require... offerings. You think any god would give anything away for free?"

Kratos stalked back toward the chained man. "What is it? What could a prisoner such as yourself possibly find useful?"

Morpheus's restless eyes shifted. "Like any god, I love to hear myself talk. But in a prison such as THIS..." His bellow echoed endlessly for several moments before fading. "... it can grow quite tiresome. I want a companion."

Kratos was stunned. "You... want a pet? A caretaker?"

Morpheus shook his head enthusiastically. "No! No such mortal thing. Last I saw you, you only just bested Persephone. If you destroyed Ares, my sentence must have been quite some time already."

Kratos sneered at the jest on his skill, which Morpheus returned with an insane, toothy grin.

"Any mortal thing would only serve to torture me more as I watched it wither and die before me. So I task you, Kratos, to bring me an undying companion. One with whom I can share my endless thoughts and miseries. Do this, and you will be one step closer to your salvation."

The question raced through Kratos's mind, but new hope filled him up. "I shall do so, Morpheus. I will return." Bowing slightly, Kratos turned and left the chamber.

Upon returning to the surface of Olympus, Dionysus's agalma dissipated, leaving Kratos to his thoughts as he walked. The good cheer that had carried him through the tunnels had now settled into concern. What could he possibly do? No immortal would willingly spend an eternity trapped with the ravings of a madman. And there were scant few immortals beyond Olympus.

It was only as Kratos reached the doors of his hall that he remembered the arrow slung through his belt. He looked over it, thinking. Perhaps Artemis would know of a creature that could satisfy Morpheus. He turned from the doorway and continued on down the hallway toward the other side of the castle.

As he walked, He saw a golden flash, and sudden he was accompanied.

"Good evening, god of war." Hermes. Messenger of the gods. "I bring a message from Lord Zeus. He wishes to speak with you about certain matters."

Hermes's manner and voice, nay his whole being, gave Kratos a sense of unease. "I have pressing matters with Artemis at the moment. Tell Lord Zeus I send my deepest apologies. Would the morning be not better?"

Hermes's smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "Highly irregular, but you are new on the mountain. I am sure Zeus will not begrudge you a scheduling conflict."  
"Very well. Thank you." Kratos continued walking, aware that it was nearing sunset: Artemis's requested time. Looking back, he saw that Hermes disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.

After several moments, Kratos pushed open the doors of Artemis's hall to find the goddess of the hunt and several of her vassals, armed and armored. "Glad you made it, god of war. Now the hunt can begin!" Before he could react, Artemis reached out her hand and covered his eyes.

* * *

A/N: Hello out there, folks. Sorry it's been such a long time between updates. It's the damnedest thing, apparently none of the chapters went through when I submitted them months ago D:  
But I've set the record straight, and the chapters I've been working on are finally up. Hope you've enjoyed them!  
The wheels are turning faster for Kratos now...


	17. Chapter XVII

Chapter  
XVII

When Kratos opened his eyes, he was almost blinded by the clear twilight surrounding him. He raises his hands to shield his eyes, but in doing so nearly lost his footing. He felt the hollow deck below him and heard the spray and swell of waves. Salty air invaded his lungs, and looked around, he finding himself at sea. He stood on the deck of a mid-sized warship of great design and detail. Kratos turned in place, taking in the scene.  
Artemis stood before him just as she had, armor clad and battle ready. Her compatriots were joined by others like them; women covered in fur, leather, and steel worked lines, climbed rigging, and scrubbed at the floor. Most had raven-dark hair, while others traversed the lighter shades of brown. But each one wore their hair close to them; either in tight curls, single tied braids, or shaven like Aerim, who sneered at him over Artemis's shoulder.

"The great ship _Thetis_ welcomes you, Kratos" Artemis said.

Kratos continued his inspection. The wood was solid, the rigging expert, and the sails maintained the winds perfectly. "A fine ship indeed. But what is the nature of this hunt?"

"Regaining honor. Something I should think you'd be interested in" came her reply with a dry smirk.

Kratos heard footsteps approaching from behind and turned to see another woman in armor heading toward them. Though her armor was cleaner and engraved with depictions of animals; clearly more ornate than the other warriors. Atop her head sat a golden crown with a single point in the middle, held tight by her braided hair. Though raven-black at its length, her thick hair was iron gray at her roots. "My lady," she said, "when you promised a bolster to our ranks, I did not expect..." She looked Kratos overly quickly, disappointment and mild revulsion stretching the lines on her face. "I did not expect _this_."

Artemis stepped toward her amicably. "I know 'tis not custom, Hippolyta." She laid a hand on the amazon queen's shoulder, seeming to soften her. "But trust in your goddess. And ready yourself, God of War. We shall arrive soon." With that, Artemis leaped upward into the rigging, and her handmaidens disbanded.

Kratos stared at the amazon queen in disbelief. "You are Hippolyta?" he asked.

"I am she," she answered, seemingly distracted.

"I thought you dead. The tales of..."

The Queen's disinterest quickly flared to anger. "The stories are wrong! Each and every last one of them told by self-righteous men! Hercules stole into my chamber like a cowardly thief in the night and robbed me of my girdle, while Theseus kidnapped my sister Antiope. We laid siege to Athens and rescued her from that raping monster. Theseus killed my..." The Queen's arms crept up each other, and braced her as she looked away from Kratos toward the sea. "... My ally, Malpadia."

But the rage quickly returned. "But rather than admit his defeat, he claimed she had killed Antiope and killed her himself, framing her as a murderess. And my sister Penthesilea, fearing my death in battle, ran from her throne only to die in the Trojan War at Achilles's hand. I have searched for Hercules and Theseus for some time to no avail. If I should see either of them again, I would kill them. Do not quote the authors to me. I should think of all people, you would be the least likely to have their story retold to them, Ghost of Sparta."

The two warriors stood in silence for some time. Until finally, she spoke.

"So you are the new god of war."

"I am."

"And you think you can help us?"

"I know not what this hunt is about. But I have not yet faced a challenge I could not win."

"Oh, I have heard. You killed my father, Ares. Only a boisterous, sadistic, misogynistic pig of a god like him would make the symbol of my rule a girdle. I've also heard tell that you killed the Furies."  
Kratos scowled at the memories. "I did."

The Queen looked him over harshly for several seconds. "You have murdered the women that enforced this world's honor. Were I any other queen, I would kill you now. But honor is not a system to be followed out of fear. Building a wall because someone tells you so, makes you a slave. Building a wall because you wish it so, makes you strong. Perhaps, without the Furies, this will be a stronger world."

"Perhaps. Punishment maintains order. But no being should be without free will."

The Queen's eyebrows raised a fraction. "A philosopher as well as a warrior. I am impressed."

Kratos sighed irritably. "What is the nature of this hunt?"

Hippolyta ceased her examination with a twitch of satisfaction. "We seek to claim the White Island of Leuke." The queens eyes watched him as he thought.

"Is that not the resting place of Achilles?" he finally asked.

The Queen's dry smirk faded as quickly as it had appeared. "While I would normally relish the idea of avenging my sister's death, there is more at stake here. You recall Medusa, do you not?"

Kratos's thoughts drifted back to his first arrival in Athens. "I do. Aphrodite bade me behead her in exchange for her power." Kratos had seen many gorgons in his time, but Medusa herself had chilled him to the bone.

"To become the queen of the gorgons, she encased her two sisters in stone. But it seems that with her death, her elder sister Stheno, has escaped."

"And she has taken the island?" Kratos asked.

Hippolyta nodded. "She has renamed it Serpent Isle. We intend to dethrone her."

"And killing one gorgon requires the aid of two gods and an army of amazons?"

"So my goddess tells me."

Kratos cast his gaze upward, catching a glimpse of Artemis standing in the rigging, letting the wind run through her. Without the light he could not be certain, but he felt as if she was looking at him.

By the light of the moon, most-likely manipulated by Artemis, they were able to land their ship on the only point of the island they were able. It seemed that every other side of the island was made of cliffs of white marble, barring their entrance. It was a small island, but the forest covering it made it deceptively large. Many of the amazons made land on horseback, including Queen Hippolyta and Artemis's handmaidens. However she and Kratos remained on-foot. As Hippolyta spoke to her soldiers regarding a map of the island, Kratos noticed Artemis speaking to Aerim, who seemed to perpetually glare at him, even through the darkness. He wondered on her loyalty.

As Artemis finished her talk with Aerim, she stood ahead of the company. "The God of War and I will scout ahead to ensure a proper path." She looked to him slyly, and nodded her head in a following gesture before taking off into the woods. Kratos wasted no time in his pursuit, sprinting into the trees. He caught sight of her once past the treeline, but she continued her run when she noticed he had come. He followed her through the darkened forest at footspeeds he had never reached before, scanning the forest around him as he ran.

After several moments, Kratos entered a small clearing and slowed to a stop. He looked to the forest around him, loosely grasping his blades. There were no sounds. None of the natural noises made in the night. No birds, no crickets or other animals. Only the sea wind whistling through the trees was present. But as he stood there, eyes scanning for movement, he could hear it: the wind was growing louder. Until finally he realized it was not the salty sea air cutting through the trees, but the high rattle of several snakes' tails.

The first gorgon slithered along the ground toward him at incredible speed, green scales flashing in the moonlight. He leaped into the air and flung his blades downward, cleaving the creature into pieces. The chains held faithfully to his forearms like familiar friends. The second gorgon, as hideous as the first, must have leaped from the treetops to meet him in midair. His blades had not yet returned, and he was forced to hold it back by it's wrists. He managed to maneuver himself as he fell, and the pair landed with Kratos on his feet, atop the gorgon's chest. He quickly ripped the creature's arms off as it lay stunned.

The third and fourth gorgons attacked from either side of the clearing, unleashing their blinding green Stone Gaze upon him. He dropped the second gorgon's limbs, reclaiming and releasing his blades, each in a wide sweeping arc. The first layer of vegetation around the clearing was cut down, but both blades found their mark. Both gorgons emitted high-pitched screeches, and Kratos pulled both in with the same motion. As each hit the ground at his feet, he plunged his hands into their snake hair, whose venom now held no fear for him, and gripped the backs of their heads. Their Gazes turned on one another, and each was turned to stone. The effect created a green explosion of light that stoned and shattered them both in an instant. The ensuing blast flung the unprepared Kratos against a nearby tree.

But rather than an instant to gather his wits, Kratos was once again assaulted. With blinding speed, the tail of another gorgon wrapped around his torso, pinning him to the tree. The chains of his blades were held at length, rendering them useless. The slimy, hissing creature tightened it's grip, wrapping around his neck. As his heart began to pound in his ears, he could hear the screeching song of the serpent as it unleashed it's Gaze upon him, and he knew that if he did not escape quickly, he would surely die.

With great effort and some pain, he managed to free his left arm, if not his chains. He grabbed at the beast, but it bobbed and weaved too swiftly. He could feel the cold stone spreading from his chest outward, and his motions became more desperate. He wrenched his other arm free and pulled at the creature's grip on his throat. He felt the odd warming sensation as he tapped into his new godly strength. And with further effort, he felt the cold blood of the gorgon soak his chest, having ripped the beast in two. It's mad squirming and screaming interrupted its gaze, allowing him to decapitate it with ease.

He grabbed up his blades and took a defensive stance, waiting for the next attacker.

"Well done, Kratos. Your skill with those blades is unmatched."  
He whirled to find Artemis atop one of the trees, shadowed against the moon. "You merely watched?" he replied.

The Goddess of the Hunt leaped silently down from her perch to stand before him. "Of course. I have been waiting for an opportunity to see your skill for myself." She smirked. "Acceptable, but not disappointing."

Kratos returned the smirk. "Perhaps some day, you will see it firsthand."

Artemis wordlessly pulled an arrow from the sling on her back. Surprised, Kratos took a defensively stance and readied to throw one of his blades. However the goddess was swift, and had loosed the arrow only just as he had readied.

When she lowered her bow, he turned to see one final gorgon, suspended from a tree by Artemis's arrow in its forehead. "Perhaps if you enter Hades's tournament, you will see mine."

A tournament? Hades must have grown bored with ordinary combat. Perhaps it was a ruse to lure him there. But before he could question the matter further, a horrible screeching echoed through the forest. He readied his blades and joined backs with Artemis, prepared for another attack. But as the sound faded, he realized that it was not a gorgon, but a man's voice. "Pleeeeeeaaaasseee..." it cried.

"What manner of attack is this?" Artemis asked. But Kratos could recall the sound anywhere. It echoed from his memories as clear as day. The sounds of tortured souls in their fall to the Underworld.

"The souls of the dead remain on this island. But should Hades hold no grudge against this voyage, they should give us no waylay."

"Apollo had asked me to purify his temple, but he made no mention of priests or followers. The only human on this island is..."

"Achilles" Kratos breathed.

"Yes" came a voice from nowhere. Both warriors readied their stances. "My tomb is overrun by these... creatures. Slay them, warriors! And you shall have the gratitude of Achilles!"

The voice faded and the pair relaxed their stances. "Hardly a reward" Artemis mused. "But the gorgons are abominations, and I hold no grudge against Achilles."

"A warrior's tomb deserves no such defilement," Kratos said.

They remained silent for several moments more, waiting and listening.

"You do this as a favor to your brother?" Kratos asked.

"It is quite amazing how often the wills and wants of gods and humans coincide. Hippolyta wanted the island, and Apollo wished his temple purified. Should it be... destroyed in the ensuing battle, I cannot be blamed. I gain a new temple of my own. Though I'm sure he does this as a favor to Aphrodite. She bade you kill the first gorgon queen, after all." Kratos's look of consternation must have made the goddess giggle. "You should acclimate yourself to the politics, God of War. Very little else happens on my father's mountain."

The pair relaxed as the sound of leaves shifting announced the arrival of the amazons. The queen waited until Artemis signaled the all-clear and the pair approached before. "What is our plan, my goddess?"

"Reason stands that Stheno would hide herself in either Apollo's temple or Achilles's tomb."

"Shall we search one, then the other? This island is small, but the jungle is treacherous. Remaining together would give us the advantage."

"Worry not, Hippolyta. The God of War and I alone bested twelve gorgons since we left you." Kratos stared at the goddess, impressed. "We will split our forces. Hippolyta, you and half will come with me. The God of War will be accompanied by my handmaiden Aerim and the other half."

Kratos shot Artemis a hard glare. A stolen glance at Aerim returned a look of utter disdain. Artemis stepped toward him and held out her arm. He took it, and the pair of gods shook. "Good luck, Kratos. Do take care of my handmaiden."

Artemis's trusting smirk assured Kratos that no matter how many gorgons he slayed, he would not leave Serpent Isle unscathed.


	18. Chapter IIXX

Chapter

IIXX

Kratos stepped swiftly through the underbrush, again acting as a scout for his half of the amazon battalion. While his senses were keen to any sign of the gorgons or their queen, his mind wandered to Aerim. She held some grudge against him. Though it was not the grudge itself that disturbed him, nor the betrayal he anticipated.

It was the simple question of why he did not just kill her.

Why? Why not? She had affronted him in his own chambers, threatened him, even. She was an impudent warrior distracted by her emotions. She would fall in battle sooner or later; he would merely hasten the hands of Hades.

Kratos leaped from the jungle floor into the branches of a tree, pausing for a moment to get his bearings. The position of the moon told him that he was headed for the correct tip of the island, where Achilles's mausoleum was located. From here, he could not tell whether it housed the beasts or not; only that, without care, the jungle had begun to overtake it.

As he returned to the jungle floor, he could see the advance guard approach behind him, Aerim among them. He silently signaled for them to spread themselves out as they approached the temple. Aerim threw him a stubborn glance and ignored him. And as he trekked forward, he felt his grip tighten on his blades. The nerve of that woman! It would be so easy to simply fall back. He could kill her silently; make it look like a gorgon attack. The dark warrior inside of him writhed with joy at the thought.

But no. This was not the way. Kratos was a god now. The God of War, perhaps, but a god still. After all his griping; all of his ill-speaking of Olympus, would he really become the same tyrant that he had fought so hard to overcome? To solve his problems with violence rather than discourse?

No. His sword arm had led him his entire life. Every choice he had ever made for himself had been undone by those choices he never had. Lysandra had berated him more than once for his long campaigns; that perhaps he preferred the violence over his own family. But no. While he always claimed to wish for the glory of Sparta, there was nothing truer in him than his love for his family. And had he not been leading general in the Northeastern campaign, he would gladly have remained home.

As Kratos, the Ghost of Sparta, trekked through that forgotten jungle on the Isle of Leuke, he made a private vow: As the God of War, he would sanctify it. Violence would no longer become the only measure of pride or success. Killing for the sake of killing was monstrous. As the God of War, Kratos would restore honor to his seat, and be the example he wished he could have had. The one he never had the chance to be for Calliope.

Returning to his senses, Kratos found himself before the mausoleum, and it still echoed the glory of the day it was built. The high marble structure echoed the great cresting of waves before the crash. Two statues of Achilles created the entrance to the crypt. They faced each other, kneeling, and each holding a spear in readied stance. In their other hands, they held golden shields that seemed to serve as doors. Closed, of course.

As he stepped toward the doors, he heard the minute rustling of the brush behind him, and turned to see Aerim leading her scouts. They each looked over the temple, scanning for enemies. "I see no gorgons," Aerim proclaimed. "We should regroup with our goddess."

But as the group turned to leave, Kratos spoke. "No. We must speak with Achilles. He may know of Stheno's plot."

Aerim interrupted him. "The fallen Spartan seeks only to waste our time, reminiscing with his male cohort. We should regroup."

Finally, Kratos could take no more. "You speak not to a mere Spartan, girl!" His harsh tone visibly startled the amazons. "I have lived, breathed, and bled combat for longer than you have been alive. I have won and lost enough battles to know one must never refuse an advantage."

Aerim stepped back, glaring but defeated. The other amazons stood at the ready. He beckoned to them. "Tell the others to create a perimeter around the crypt. Be swift, be silent, and take care." The scouts nodded and retreated into the bush along with a furious Aerim. Kratos turned back toward the crypt. "I have a feeling this grave is not all that it seems."

Quickly, he surveyed the temple. Clearly there had been no one to care for the structure. Trees had taken root near the foundations, causing several of the pillars to crack. Vines climbed the walls from every angle, and though the temple breached the treetops, the birds above would be hard-pressed to distinguish one from another.

He approached the doors. Emblazoned upon them was a design of the heart, split at the center where the doors met. The seal was imperfect. And within the heart itself, Kratos could feel the stone shift and give way, like several pressable switches. Seeking the direct approach, he dug his hands into the very center. However as he pulled the doors apart, he could hear the grinding of a mechanism. He looked up, seeing that the eyes of the statues had begun to glow, and they each looked down upon him, thrusting their spears!

He backed away quickly, allowing the shields to join once again, and the spears to return to their original position. While it was true, he could use his godly strength to rend the statues, or the doors themselves, Achilles did not deserve such an affront, living or dead. And even if he did intend to pressure the old hero, he held no leverage over a shade.

Kratos stood for a moment, thinking. He had faced plenty of challenges such as this in Pandora's temple. With these experiences in mind, he searched the temple exterior, investigating each crack and crevice. But with his mind on the battle ahead, he wasted no time. Unfortunately, he found no keyholes, levers, or switches. And even with his strength, the doors had only come open enough for his hand or his arm, before the spears had come down upon him.

Puzzled beyond his patience, Kratos approached the heel of the first statue; the weakness of the ill-fated warrior. Surely, though, those who came to praise him would not defile his weakness. It was the last place a true pilgrim would look for the entrance. He searched, finding nothing near the heels, at the sandals, or upon the ground. But as he searched the statues themselves more carefully, he realized that they carried something under the belt that shone only just more brightly in the moonlight. A strange shape at a straight angle. Looking to the other statue, he found another object of the mirror image.

Reaching up, he found that the object was not part of the statue itself. And with some small doing, he removed it from the belt. It seemed like a leftover piece of marble, but was too finely-crafted. The angle was perfect. And upon further inspection, he found an indent on the shorter end. He removed the second piece as well, finding a similar indentation. Placing the two ends together, he found that they locked into place, forming the letter Π. Returning to the heart design, he found that the angle of the piece directly matched the indentations in the heart. And so, he pressed the key into the heart. The pieces aligned, and once again he heard the mechanism grind into life. The shields separated, and the arms holding the spears turned downward, placing their blades into the dirt. The way forward was clear, and there was no time to waste.

Kratos charged down the hallway beyond the door. Along the walls, he saw tapestries depicting glorious battles. Achilles was featured in many of them; leading the charge against enemies, besting legions at a time, inspiring his fellow soldiers, and so on. The hallway began to turn downward into a descending staircase. But as he went on, Kratos held a sense of foreboding. The torches along the walls, illuminating the tapestries, became irregular. Several had been snuffed out, whilst the sconces of others had been ripped from the walls. And the ones that remained illuminated torn and burned tapestries; some ripped from the walls, others torn, and many shredded as if with inhuman claws.

The gorgons. So they had indeed found their way inside. Kratos quickened his pace, grasping his blades tightly.

After some time, the silence began to unnerve him. The pattern of destruction had continued, but after several minutes he had found no evidence of the gorgons. No sounds, no scales, no droppings or dead animals. Just the chaos. Could they have come and gone? How could they?

Finally, he reached the tomb. The door was held in place, closed. Though not locked, the doors were covered in cobwebs, as though they had never been opened once closed. At first, Kratos took himself aback. Perhaps this had been a foolish quest. Even Achilles was now just a shade. What help could he be against Stheno and her army of gorgons? His crypt had clearly not been disturbed. But even as Kratos thought this, an agonized wail exploded from the other side of the door with almost physical force. He instinctively wrenched the door open and pushed through. Though he was not prepared for what he had found.

The room was long, with walls of cold marble, balanced by the thick red carpet upon the floor. Lit torches hung above banners upon walls lined with gold and treasure; no-doubt the spoils of war. And at the far end, side-by-side, were two coffins. However both were closed, and there still showed no sign of gorgons. Instead he saw two ghosts. The first was, unmistakably Achilles. He stood still adorned in the famous armor that had driven fear into the hearts of the Trojans, and had later been delivered to his son.

The other shade, though, was harder to distinguish. Where Achilles's form was a sharp and clear outline of what he had once been, the other had become distorted. Shadows played mercilessly with it's features, ranging from the humanoid to the monstrous and blurring as if looking through a watery surface.

The strange ghost seemed to turn it's attention to him, releasing another horrid shriek, and flew at him. Although his weapons held no fear for the already-dead, Kratos drew his blades on reflex. "Patroklos, stop!" came the great booming voice of Achilles. And with the larger-than-life echo in the chamber, the monstrous ghost came to halt before him. Upon hearing the name, Kratos looked more closely at the thing, and realized. The symbol that had unlocked the temple, the Π, stood for Πάτροκλος : Patroklos. The key to Achilles's heart.

During the Trojan war, Achilles and Patroklos fought bravely on the battlefield together. They were written and spoken of as being the closest of friends and greatest of companions. But while some claimed them to be like brothers, others spoke of their bond as being... deeper.

As the ghost of Patroklos fell back toward his coffin, Achilles came forward. "Thank the gods you've come. These unearthly creatures have disturbed my rest for far too long. Have you come to slay them, warrior? Oh." As the shade approached, he seemed to notice something unexpected. Though Kratos's crimes had been after Achilles's time, he was unsurprised by the reaction. "Or should I simply be thanking you. Can that really be you, Lord Ares?"

The mention of the name caused his skin to crawl. "Ares is dead, Achilles. I am the new God of War."

Even on the ghostly pallor of Achilles's face, Kratos could see further surprise and confusion. "Could I not see your aura, I would surely call you a liar. But if what you say is true, I am intrigued."

The ghost of Patroklos returned, now looking much more human. "Had I known we were expecting company, I would have tidied up. I apologize for my outburst. Being dead does little for one's compsure."

Kratos nodded awkwardly, even as he saw Achilles give off a look of disgust to the other ghost. "In life you envied me, and so do you in death, Patroklos. Only in death does it rise so visibly to the surface."

Patroklos rounded on Achilles, his form slipping slightly. "Now that we lay dead, you choose to look at my faults. You never cared, or you never knew. One is just as damning as the other in a lover. We battled together for years, shared lovers, shared a bed. And all anyone could ever speak of was The Great Achilles, who gave more thought to himself than his worshippers did."

Kratos backed slightly away, disturbed by the conversation. It appeared that the less popular rumors held more creedence.

"If ever I would ask, you would pretend not to know!" Achilles roared. "You were weak of spine and sharp of tongue, Patroklos. It is not my fault that I was famous. If you had truly loved me, you would have seen the burden it laid upon me, being the idol of millions."

"And if you had truly loved me," Patroklos responded, again changing shape, "you glory-hounding whore, you would have seen to me! You would have known how much it broke me to share you with all of those millions."

Achilles's shade turned away from the poltergeist that had once been Patroklos. "I am to be taken or left, Patroklos. We grew up together. You could have spoken, but you didn't. You could have confided in me, but you chose not to. Just as you chose to ignore my order at Troy, sacrificing your life for a mere fifty-three soldiers. Do you know how it broke my heart, to see you die in battle like that?"

The two ghosts fell silent. And though he held no footing in the argument, Kratos could not help but imagine what would have happened had he died there on that field ten years ago. Would Lysandra hold it against him? Did she still? Kratos shook his head, refusing to go down that road. There was work to be done.

But before he could speak, the ghost of Achilles turned to him. "I know the island, God of War. I know of Stheno's encampment, and I can help you to destroy it. All I ask is that you take me with you. Free me from this madness."

In an effort to escape the scene playing out before him, Kratos hurriedly opened Achilles's coffin, wherein he found the warriors bones. Though it seemed a crime to disturb the tomb, Kratos wished nothing more than to be away from this place. "Take my skull. It is all I will need," Achilles breathed. Kratos picked a large sack of gold from the treasures in the hall and emptied it of it's contents. He stepped past the stunned form of Patroklos and gently placed the skull of Achilles in the sack, tying it tightly to his belt.

But as he turned back toward the stairs, he saw Aerim standing there. He could not see her eyes, but he knew nothing good would come of this. "You... creature," she breathed.

"I instructed you to watch the battalion," was all Kratos could say.

Aerim stepped forward. "You monster. Graverobber! I knew you could not be trusted. I KNEW you were not worthy of my goddess. And now I shall prove it." The amazon drew her sword.

"You should not do this," Kratos seethed. His earlier dark thoughts bubbled to the surface.

"I have WISHED for this moment, Fallen Spartan," she said, settling into a combat stance. "You do remember slaying the Furies, don't you? You remember how you selfishly wormed your way from the contract you made with the true God of War?" Kratos clenched his teeth and drew his blades. "I'm sure you do, for all the self-pity you carry with you. But do you remember all of the amazons you slayed on the Isle of Delos? Do you?! No, I'm sure you wouldn't."

As Aerim spoke, Kratos could see the shadows move out of the corner of his eye. The monstrous form of Patroklos crept across the room, wrapping serpent-like around the amazon. "Aerim, be careful. You..."

"I AM NOT FINISHED!" She roared. And through her open mouth, the shade of Patroklos entered. Her body froze, then shook. Her face lifted to the ceiling, and her eyes went pale. It was too late.

Within seconds, Aerim returned to her speech, though he could hear the voice of Patroklos echo her, and her eyes glowed a ghostly white. "You wouldn't remember the weakest of them; they are merely enemies, obstacles to a murderer like you. You would not remember the girl of palest skin and longest auburn hair, whose eyes glowed with a kindness and purity too good for even the amazons. You would not. But I do. I am Aerim of Themiscyra. You murdered my sister. Prepare to die."

* * *

_**A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews! Especially that guest review commenting on Kratos's character integrity. While it's true that I'm writing this story to explore Kratos's depth as a character, it's also true that living a lifetime of war does affect Kratos's decision-making; something I'd forgotten. _

_Anyway, apologies for the strangeness of this chapter. I felt like it needed some of the famous tongue-in-cheek dark humor that the series is famous for. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. Coming up next: The Battle for Snake Island!_


	19. Chapter IXX

Chapter  
IXX

The posessed amazon wasted no more words. Her sword flashed before him, faster than he would have thought. Caught off-balance, he could only retreat backward a few steps, avoiding another slash, and another, both aimed at his throat. But he quickly gathered his will and acquired her timing, parrying her next attack. The amazon sword sang sorrowfully against the godly blade, and now it was Kratos who was on the attack. He made his own slashing motion, sending his blade flying through the air toward his opponent.

However, it seemed that the posession had enhanced Aerim's already impressive skills. She avoided the strike, leaping into the air. As he had predicted, she had placed herself into a vulnerable position. Again calling upon his godly powers, Kratos launched himself into the air toward his target. There was no time for this madness, and the only way he could end this would be to get a hold of her. Part of him hoped that perhaps he could still knock some sense into her, and expel the ghost of Patroklos. But yet another piece of him wanted to feel her break in his hands.

But with inhuman speed, she managed to evade his grasp. It was as if she were gliding on an unearthly wind. She lept spider-like to the wall of the tomb, and lept back at him, catching him around his waist. The pair crashed into the opposite wall at terrible speed.

But before she could release him, he grabbed her by the arms and pummelled her stomach with his knees. As she recovered her wind, she began to beat at his kidneys; a coward's tactic. He tried and failed to get a grip on her short hair, but as she struggled to pull away from him, he was able to get her neck under his arm. With a mighty swing, he thrashed her against the wall beside him. And with her now in shock from the blow, he used his knee to drive into her stomach, crushing her spine against the wall and wrenching her neck. After several satisfying cracks, he released her, letting her fall to the ground.

He breathed deeply, letting the combat heat drain from inside him. But before he could turn, he saw the amazon stir. Her broken back cracked horribly as she lifted herself into a sitting position, and her head rolled bonelessly back atop her torso. An expression of raw agony lay frozen on her face, but her pale eyes were locked toward him. She released a terrible scream akin to what he had received upon entering the tomb.

"You fight not only the amazon, God of War, but Patroklos as well" came the ethereal voice of Achilles. Kratos looked to the bag on his belt, the skull bulging within it. "You must burn his bones, and remove his hold on this world."

Of course. It was Patroklos's undead will that was pushing Aerim's body, if not her mind. Grabbing one of the torches from the wall, he hurried over to the coffin, kicking the lid off with his godly strength. He led the torch along the length of the body, igniting the fine clothes it was draped in. And as the body burned, Kratos could hear the voice of Patroklos scream from Aerim's throat. "If I can't have my body, then yours will do just as well!" There was a burst of smoke in Kratos's eyes, and he could see no longer.

He felt his body numb and his mind go fuzzy. The tomb had disappeared, and the world around it as well. The great gorgon hunt, the challenging eyes of Artemis, the row with Hades, and the affections of Athena now lay in distant memory. Kratos stood within a great smokey fog, laid bare down to his natural tanned skin. And though he lacked weapons, clothes, or armor, it was the shifting shadows in the smoke that made him chill.

"The mind is full of weapons," came the voice of Patroklos. "The one thing any warrior worth their blade learns is that the mind is the most powerful tool in battle. It matters not the size of your army, the sharpness of your sword, or the weight of your hammer; you must have the knowledge to use it to its fullest potential." At first Kratos attempted to turn and face his opponent, but quickly saw the foolishness of chasing shadows in the dark. "But the mind itself is an armory. Every guilt, every worry, or fear, or memory, is a weapon you shape against yourself. Weapons that do damage no blade of the enemy could ever do. And you, Kratos of Sparta, have quite the armory."

Suddenly, from out of the smoke came two long, serpentine chains. Each one wrapped itself along his arms, pulling them outward and leaving him helpless. "You made your deal with Ares: your soul in return for the destruction of your enemies. And in doing so, you claimed the fate of so many innocent lives." The chains seemed to sharpen and grow barbs, digging into his flesh.

But at last, Kratos found the will to speak. "Ares was a monster, and bid me destroy so much more than my enemies, Patroklos. And in the end, my bond with him was broken."

The chains fell slack to the ground, unravelling from his arms. "Tis true, I see. You broke your bond and your word. And so, you were punished!" Each link of the chain seemed to shake of it's own accord, shattering into pieces. And with their new freedom from each other, the pieces rose into the air like a deadly, edged mist. And all at once, each piece drove itself deeply into his skin. Though he clenched his jaw shut, and no blood ran from his body, his scream of agony echoed in the mindfog as he sank down to his knees. "Your honor was levied against you by the Furies," Patroklos continued.

"And the Furies," Kratos interjected through his clenched teeth, "met their end as well." At his words, each of the metal shards fell from his body, dissolving into sand upon the ground. All except one, which remained lodged deeply within his side.

"Ah yes, but at the cost of a good man's life. A man who helped you escape your fate. Orkos who, while abandoned by Ares, became a greater man than anyone would have guessed." The metal shard glowed orange and hot, becoming a shard of enchanted amber.

"Yes," Kratos said. "And I will carry his sacrifice to my dying day." The wound closed around the shard, and it disappeared beneath his skin.

"You are indeed a strong one," Patroklos continued. "But there are burdens you carry still that are SO much more potent!" Suddenly a great rushing force, like a battering ram, came charging from the mists. Kratos was crushed to the ground with the force of it, and within the smokey shape, he could see lightning flashing amongst the clouds, illuminating memories. Memories of his family. "You murdered them. Drunk on the power you had foolishly traded your soul for, you slaughtered your own family.

Kratos struggled beneath the heavy weight. "But I did not mean..."

"No, of course you didn't," the shade interrupted. "The paths beside the River Styx are paved with the intentions of the righteous."

Kratos could feel the weight pressing into him, molding to his body and holding him against the ground. Soon, he could feel it choking him. "And it is their deaths that I carry with me, to drive me forward, ghost! It is for their forgiveness that I fight on, through any obstacle!" Like the shards before, the weight seemed to dissolve into sand and smoke. And as he rose to his feet, Kratos found himself again covered in the ashes that won him the name of Ghost of Sparta. But with the ashes came his familiar torn combat toga and his sandals. "You run the length of your weapons, Patroklos!" Kratos challenged.

The mists were clearing now, Kratos could see. The monstrous form that Patroklos had been reduced to now took scarcely any refuge, and Kratos could see his movements. A ghastly hiss emanated from the clinging mist. "Perhaps, but there is yet one weapon that even you have hidden from, Ghost of Sparta!" With a growl of effort, an enormous axe flew from the mist. Kratos was able to step away from it, but it landed before him; the flats of the enormous blades shone brightly like a mirror to him. And from the mirrors mist came a great form wreathed in flame and chained armor. Kratos took half a step back as he came face-to-face with Ares once more.

"You pathetic mortal. You were always a monster, from the day you were born. You were destined for naught but a lifetime of death, destruction, and betrayal. Your calmest and clearest thoughts lay in battle! And oh, how you wished to be rid of any trace of a normal life. To live one battleground to the next; that was what you longed for, what you craved. I merely freed you from the chains of mortal law, to do as you truly wanted, in your deepest heart of hearts!"

Suddenly, Ares's face became blurred. "It is not my image you fear, Kratos, but your own!" The face beneath the fiery mane, and atop the blood-soaked armor became his own, and Kratos gasped. The voice became a horrific mix of his own and that of his former master. "When you looked up to me, you wanted only to be as powerful as I was. A monster I may have been. But who is more damned: the beast, or the man who wishes to be the beast?"

Kratos stepped froward and beat his hands against the mirror edges of the axe. "You fear still, not what you were, but what you will become! You cannot escape your fate!" While all of Ares's words had made him weak under their truth, the creature's final statement had sparked a fire within him. A fire that rose up from the pits of his belly, through his chest and into his fist. With another crushing blow, he cracked the axe, splitting the single image into many. But the flame of his anger and will urged him on. The axe cracked again and again under his blows, until finally the weapon fell to pieces on the ground before him. The blades lay shattered, and the handle crumbled to dust.

But now, the tiny mirrors reflected not Ares's face nor his own. But those of every Spartan that had died for him, and those that he had left behind, along with each of the gods of Olympus. Their hundreds of eyes stared up and into him, each reflection burning him. The voice of the monstrous Patroklos returned. "Ah, but for all your struggling, and all of your will, you are still hated and feared by all of those you have served. Your own people think you a betrayer and a murderer. The gods above, who now surround you, see you as little more than a monster to be controlled. A rabid dog that must be kept tightly leashed."

Kratos fell once again to his knees, and began sifting through the shards of broken glass. Each edge cut him deeply, staining them with blood. The glass dug into his legs and arms as deeply as the chains had. But he took solace in the fact that unlike the heavy, deep pain of the chains, these shards were light. Though their edges were sharp and cut deep, they were thin. And each one was forgotten in favor of the next. The solace he took from this drove him on, pushing through each shard until he found the one for which he had searched.

The emerald eyes of Athena shone up at him, and he held the shard in both hands. Those green eyes held no hate or distrust, but hope. Deep in his heart, Kratos knew that Athena had faith in him. Even if he could have no faith in himself. Her smile shone even more brightly up at him, and he smiled, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. And in his hand, the mirror transformed. What once had been the broken edge of an axe became the gilded edges of one of the blades Athena had crafted for him, to replace those of Ares. And with this blade, Kratos felt like himself again. He felt whole. The second blade grew from the edges of the first, and Kratos took each one in hand as these chains coiled around his arms as familiar friends. The other shards lay strewn upon the ground, but he paid them no mind.

"Your time in my mind has ended, shade," Kratos barked. The mist was but a thin wisp now, and Patroklos lay bare within it. "Now I will show you what weapons a mind can wield!" And with a great swing of both blades, Kratos swept up the mist in a cyclone, shredding the ghostly form and revealing the landscape of his mind as to what felt natural. At his feet still lay the broken glass, and at all sides he found walls. He was in a pit, painted with his pains and his failures. They spun, like the blades of Hades on his climb up from the River Styx. And just as he had done then, he sheathed his blades and gripped the walls. And slowly, he climbed between the thorns and across the cylinder. And guiding his ascent, he could see three forms shaded against bright light. The forms of his wife Lysandra, his daughter Calliope, and himself, fading calmly into obscurity

Kratos once again found himself in the dark tomb of Achilles. The bag with the old warrior's skull hung from his belt, and his blades hung with a comfortable weight from his arms. The smoke that was the ghost of Patroklos had now retreated back to the broken form of Aerim, who had by now flown from this earth. The horrible body twisted and wrenched itself into a standing position, preparing to attack again with the remainder of its strength. "You will not have my Achilles!" it said. "None shall!"

Kratos thought to hismelf. "So you need a body, do you?" he asked of the ghost, who responded with a shreik. "You'll have no sway over me, spirit. And Achilles has his own bones." With a flick of his wrist, Kratos summoned his blades to his hands. And with another flick he threw them, enchaining the undead creature. Before, Aerim had been a living breathing warrior, and subject to his new attempt at mercy. But now, only an undead wretch stood before him. Those, he knew quite well how to deal with.

Kratos was swift with his judgement, and Achilles quickly led him to the secret exit from the tomb. Once he returned to the jungle, he let the leaves relieve him of all the blood. He met with the amazon scouts, and told them of a secret path to Apollo's temple. And upon informing the battalion, Kratos set off again across the jungle. Here and there he was beset by gorgons, and each one fell to his blades.

He felt crass now, hardened. He had tried to make Aerim see reason. He had tried to show her mercy. A good man weilds violence like a heavy sword: infrequently, but with great precision and strength. But Kratos's blades still flew too easily and too frequently. They would not help him slay his inner demons. However, they served him well against Patroklos, and for that he felt a great warming pride. But they killed gorgons just as efficiently. He would consider his inner matters when the hunt was over, and enough monsters lay dead.

As Achilles led him along the jungle to Apollo's temple, he felt the earth shake beneath him. At first he could scarcely feel it, but the second tremor was twice the strength of the first, and he could hear the leaves shake in the trees. "Does this cursed island quake as well?" he asked aloud.

"No," came Achilles from his skull. "It is the gorgon queen. She has awoken."

Kratos raced froward. Surely Artemis and her battalion had reached the temple by now. Up the nearest tree he climbed, eager to check his progress. Surely enough, the temple was plainly in few; it lay only a few hundred yards ahead, as they approached from the side. But as the island once again shook beneath him, Kratos saw something emerge from the temple. It was not a gorgon, but the head and body of an enormous snake! Though not as large as the Basilisk had been, it was larger still than any gorgon. It's fangs glowed in the bright moonlight and it's eyes shown red. Its hiss echoed across the trees, and Kratos saw as it made several snatching attacks at the ground near the temple.

There was no more time to waste. With all of the dexterity Kratos could muster, he began leaping from treetop to treetop, hastening his approach until he needed no rest to adjust his footing. Each step became as natural as running across rocky terrain. And within moments, Kratos flew down from the treetops to land in the clearing before the temple. The first amazon battaltion fought the snake bravely, though several had already fallen to its unnatural speed. Hippolyta used the trees, loosing arrow after arrow at the beast. Several had hit their mark, and the beast was already blind in its left eye.

Artemis, however, had taken the more direct approach. With the blade Kratos had returned to her, glowing red and large and sharp, she slashed at the beast's fangs. Each impossibly-fast strike was parried by the goddess, but they came too frequently to allow her to advance. "God of War!" came Hippolyta's cry. "At last, you arrive. But too late! My goddess matches the beast herself!" Kratos looked to the amazon queen. And while he saw pride, he could also see the shadow of worry in the lines on her face. Her battalion had been reduced to nearly half, and so many of the warriors lay injured and covered with blood.

As Kratos thought, examining the field and the players upon it, a scout from his battalion came to his side. "My lord!" she exclaimed. "What will you have us do?" But Kratos had already devised a scheme. "Those with bows will assist the queen. Align your arrows. Do not give rain, but a solid shower to the great beast! Keep it from retreating to the top of the temple. Those with spears and swords will assist Lady Artemis. Create a bramble such that the great snake would only harm itself when attacking." The scout nodded quickly and returned to the treeline, where the rest of the battalion waited.

Kratos rushed forward to Artemis, the amazons following at his back. He took position at the snake's belly, beside Artemis. She smiled wolfishly as she found him there, and parried the beast with renewed ferocity. And with each parry, Kratos threw his own blades to delay further strikes. The creature's dark blood arced across the sky and dotted the temple grounds. Its shrill cries drowned out even those of the battle-hungry amazons and Olympians. And as the army of swords and spears formed around the two gods, the snake struck less forcefully. With each attack, a new wound opened and more blood flowed, and the arrows from above kept it from truly evading their attacks.

"God of War!" came Artemis's voice through the cacophony. Kratos watched as the goddess, still grinning, back away from the front lines. Though confused, he watched and listened still, until she came rushing forth at the incredible speeds she had reach earlier. "Give me purchase on your blades!" she cried. And under raw instinct, Kratos fell to one knee and held his blades in a defensive posture. Artemis leaped from her charge on to the flat of the blades, and Kratos thrust her forward in-time with her jump from them.

The Goddess of the Hunt flew high into the air, her enormous sword raised above her head, and came down with a fearsome slash and an equally fearsome battle cry. The sword plunged into the creature at its neck, and came through the other side near its belly. The head of the giant snake slithered, decapitated from the whole, with a good portion of what would have been its torso. It writhed and snapped momentarily, but soon enough it lay still, soaked in blood. A mighty cheer erupted from the remaining amazons as their goddess came to her feet, brandishing her sword proudly. Artemis cast a glance at Kratos that seemed somewhere between glorious approval and, he thought, wanton lust. And in his own state of pure, unrestrained power, he considered it. Thoughts of bedding the virgin goddess of the hunt, bathed in the moonlight and the blood of their enemies, flashed through his mind.

But their cheers had come too early. For once again, the island shook. Many warriors lost their footing and fell to the ground; the Olympians themselves dropped to one knee. The Temple of Apollo cracked and crumbled before them, forcing the amazons to fall back to the treeline. And from within the pillars of the dark temple, where the moonlight shown not, Kratos saw an enormous pair of red glowing eyes. Memories of his battle with the hydra flashed before him.

Kratos aided Artemis's escape and, surely enough, the temple erupted from inside. And a gorgon as high as two main ship masts towered above them. The snake they had bested proved to be only one of many that framed its face, and though it had no mouth, the trees shook with her voice. "I AM STHENO! QUEEN OF ALL GORGONS! AND FOR THE DEATH OF MY CHILDREN, YOU SHALL NOW FACE ME!" The gorgon queen unleashed a screech such that many of the warriors fell to their knees, blood pouring from every orifice. Though Kratos could not hear her voice over that of the monster, he could read Artemis's lips, still locked in a crazed grin. 'At last, she appears!'

As Stheno rose to her full height, Kratos saw a second, smaller pair of arms emerge from atop the temple. These began to crush the marble of the temple, and hurl it over the amazons. Many were crushed, but the survivors organized quickly. "Into the trees!" Hippolyta ordered. Kratos locked eyes with Artemis, and the pair looked back to the amazon queen, who nodded to them. They wasted no words. Kratos ran along with Artemis up either side of the temple to the scaly hide of the gorgon queen. The shorter, dumber pair of arms gave them no waylay, and with their godly speed of foot and sharpness of blade, the two Olympians ascended the slimy back of the titanic snake.

As Artemis ran along her spine, Kratos leaped to the elbow of her left arms, using his blades to both hold himself in place, and to dig into the flesh of the creature's arm. Stheno writhed and screeched in pain as arterial blood sprayed across the treetops. And when her arm finally fell, twisted and weak, to her side, she spoke again. "YOU WILL ALL DIE! FEEL MY GAZE, AND DIIIIIIIEEEE!" As her other arm reached in vain for Artemis, Kratos could see the snakes on Stheno's head gather around her eyes. From her face came an enormous beam of sickly green energy, under which Kratos saw the jungle itself turn to stone and crumble. The gorgon queen swept her destructive gaze in a slow arc across the jungle, heading for the retreating amazon legion.

"NO!" came the roar of the Moon Goddess as she reached the back of the gorgon's neck. She swung her blade, leaving great bloody marks in the creature's flesh. But Kratos could not linger and watch. Stheno's good arm swung toward him, hoping to catch and crush him in her grasp. But his godly speed exceeded hers. And with a healthy leap, he cleared the enormous hand below him. As it recoiled, to try and reach up to him, he loosed is blades and swung himself head-over-heels in the air, spinning the blades like a great wheel. And with the ease of cutting any other flesh, Kratos felt his blades cleave through Stheno's arm, removing her hand at the wrist. More blood flowed like a waterfall over the jungle, and sharp bits of bone and chunks of meat rained down as well. The useless hand twitched and clawed the earth.

But as Kratos landed and looked up in triumph, he found Artemis at steeper odds than he had left her. Though Stheno's stoney gaze had stopped, the great gorgon shook her head from side to side, attempting to swing the Moon Goddess loose as her hair of snakes assaulted her.

With an Olympic leap and grip on his blades, Kratos once again ascended the giant monster. Artemis must have seen his ascent, for with a twirl of her wrist, she unleashed a swath of red-hot energy from the blade: a power, he assumed, could only be wielded by the sword's mistress. The blast struck each of the snakes, sending them reeling to the side, exposing the ragged bit of flesh at the middle of Stheno's head, where the first giant snake had been removed.

Artemis egged Kratos on, and he increased his already-amazing speed along the creature's spine. And as he passed her, the goddess gripped his shoulder and mounted his back. With both blades drawn as Kratos reached the top of the gorgon's head, he leaped high into the air, throwing both blades to sink deeply into the ragged stump. And as the two gods, guided by Kratos's chains, swung at incredible speed toward the gorgon queen's face, Artemis raised her sword. And at the end of their swing, she plunged it deep into Stheno's forehead. The sound of Olympian metal grinding against flesh and bone was only just drowned out by the pained scream and death rattle of the gigantic gorgon.

But as the red power of the blade met the green energy leaking from the head of the gorgon queen, the air seemed to be sucked from the world around them. And within seconds, the energies exploded against each other, ripping the gorgon queen's head into chunks, and hurling both Kratos and Artemis high into the air and out over the sea.

Kratos awoke to find himself floating in the water, the marble cliffs of the island not far ahead. He found his blades sheathed loyally against his back, and searched for any sign of the goddess. "Artemis!" he called against the spray of the sea. From his back, he heard a loud whistle over the crashing waved. He saw, within the wall of marble itself, Artemis had found a crevice just above the water's reach. She waved at him, and he made his way to the wall, using the tide to carry him in.

As he reached the wall, he rode atop a wave and used his blades to sink into the marble, climbing up the sheer cliff to the cave where Artemis lay. Crawling inside, he found the Goddess of the Hunt sitting against the back of what he would almost call a cave. He approached slowly, shaking the seawater from his body as he did. "Are you well? The magic seemed sufficient to throw us quite a distance."

He saw Artemis stand and approach him. "I am quite well, God of War." And as she stepped from the shadow of the cave into her own moonlight, Kratos took in her battle-scarred form. Her armor was now reduced to scraps of leather that only just clung to her. The metal breastplate had shattered, and did nothing to hide her heaving chest. One half of her remaining cloth held no purchase on her, save for the belt at her waist that had barely survived. Her sandals had been removed, and he cold see them as a ruined heap at the back of the cave.

Though her armor was near-destroyed, her features remained pristine. Her wide expanse of tan skin over strong, taut muscle lay unscathed. Her short brown hair lay wet against the sides of her face, and with a swift motion, she smoothed it back over the top of her head. As their eyes locked, Kratos could feel that wanton lust again, and see it in her dark eyes. The Huntress's lips curled and she leaped at him. Not with dagger or sword, but with pure angry passion.

He caught her around her waste and embraced her lips as they tore at his. Her left hand scraped down along his muscled spine while her right hand gripped the back of his neck. His left hand did the same, journeying into her dark hair at the back her her head. She threw her head back as he kissed her neck. With his greater strength, he pushed her against the wall of the cave, turning her back to him. He feasted in her neck and squeezed her exposed breast, as hard with muscle and ecstasy as the marble itself.

But with a flick of her arm beneath his, Artemis was in control again. She held him against the same wall, with one hand at his throat and the other on his shoulder, biting into his collar and grinding against his chiseled form. But Kratos was now consumed by the fires within, and would not give up without a fight. He gripped both of her tightly-muscled thighs and lifted her, pressing them both to the ground with he atop her and between her legs.

But Artemis had expected this, and pulled her knees together beneath his stomach. Grabbing each of his shoulders and using her knees to lift, she flung Kratos over her head, where he landed on his back in the cave. As quick as a flash, she sat straddling him, her sword in her hand. But as she began to grind again, she smiled and held the blade, now its original blue color, to his chest. "Do you think a virgin goddess's chastity is so easily won?" She lifted herself from atop him and stepped toward the cave entrance, holding her sword.

Kratos stood up, leaning against the cave wall and grinning at their little game. "What more would you have me do?" he asked, smirking. "Best you in combat?"

She turned back toward him, her wolfish grin now returned. "I will be competing in Hades's tournament. Best me in the final round, and we shall see if you are truly worthy of my garter." Fingering the blade again, Artemis regarded its color and shape. "It seems that it took all of the sword's power to kill Stheno." She turned the sword over in her hand and offered the handle to Kratos. "Here. You've done it once, now do so again. Sharpen the sword and fill it with the blood and power of combat. I will take it back when I have beaten you in the tournament." The Huntress smiled devilishly, and Kratos merely returned the smirk as he took the sword.

Out in the darkness of the sea, Kratos heard a large horn blowing. Artemis turned at the sound and stepped to the end of the cave. "That is Hippolyta's horn. The island is hers, and they are setting sail back to Themiscyra."

Kratos nodded. "Good. It was a successful hunt, then."

"In more ways than one," Artemis remarked. "And by the way," she continued as she turned away from him. "You must tell me what became of Aerim. When you discover how to return to Olympus." Kratos eyes narrowed at the goddess. But before he could utter a word, she turned back toward him, and the moonlight flashed brightly over her body. When the light had faded, Artemis was gone.

At first Kratos thought to destroy the cave. But his anger quickly subsided into amusement. It had been a good, long hunt. And he had many things to deliberate on. Falling into a sitting position, he found Achilles's skull still within the bag on his belt. Elated, he closed his eyes and folded his legs, laying the sword across his thighs. And as he listened to the waves crash against the marble cliffs, he began to think.

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**_A/N: Sorry about the late update, folks! Don't think I ever forgot about you! Had a few home issues and family events to go to, but here you are! I hope the carnal delights were worth the wait!_**


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